#its been a MONTH since they gave the last update

[poorlittlevampire]

i need suzuki to say what the price will be for the omnichord im not kidding im too scared to spend large amounts rn bc what if im short by $50???? what then?????????

[lucifersincentivetosleep]

Finally just decided to buy the untranslated Obey Me manga. I mean they finished it up with volume 3 and I don't know what mangaplaza is doing but at this point I'm not waiting for them to "get around to translating it" it still baffles me they actually said that so why not just buy the jp version, right?

My Japanese isn't even close to good enough to be able to read it all but I got the gist and theres always mtl, though thats often overly literal and not suuuuuper accurate. Still better than nothing.

[jakei95]

This will be the last update about the accusations against Nyx and me from last year and recent months.

VERSION EN ESPAÑOL:

I cannot force everyone to forgive or believe us, but I would like to provide a closure from our part on the events following Hopeless Peaches' false accusations last year, and a few more that have been reappearing this year, once more.

In recent months, we resumed communication with CrystalFlame, one of the victims of the Glitchtale server. Crystal acknowledged that the accusations against us for allegedly being sexual towards minors and bribing her to remain silent about our "crimes" were entirely fabricated by these people. It was never our intention to hide our past mistakes with money. The separate donations Nyx and I gave to Crystal were solely intended to help her.

Regarding the conversations on Skype in 2017, neither Nyx nor I ever forced the minors present to engage in sexual behavior for our entertainment, nor did we sexualize them in any way. There were inappropriate conversations between adults, in which they should not have been involved, and we recognize our mistake in being negligent and not caring enough about them. I must admit that Veir also disgusted me, and I reacted foolishly by not confronting him or by saying things he liked just to make him leave me alone. I deeply regret this. Although we have apologized to Crystal for this, I also want to apologize to the minors who were there, even if they don't want to know about this anymore, and to the entire community for this huge mistake. Since Nyx and I stopped using that chat short after our irl meeting that same year, plus our detachment to the members of GT, we have changed our views significantly both in public and in private, creating a healthy community for everyone. I will add more details later regarding my experiences with NSFW material, for which I have also been accused of being a depraved person.

I disagree with how Nyx tried to explain how these behaviors were so normalized, but he never intended to endorse the toxicity and unpunished crimes occurring in Latin culture. Nyx acknowledges this, and we discussed it again privately with Crystal. We apologize once more to our Latin members who might have been offended by this take, which could have been better explained. Nyx and I said a lot of things out of fear and frustration, which caused more harm and distress rather than solutions due to the explosive harassment we faced because of the false accusations by Hopeless Peaches and their group. I won't go into too many details because I have chosen to keep my mental health private, but this wave of harassment severely impacted my mental and physical health, and I am currently undergoing treatment to manage the aftermath.

However, I want to take full responsibility for causing Nyx to act out of emotion rather than with a clear mind in a desperate attempt to protect me, as Crystal ended up in a very complicated situation during the harassment wave created by Peaches, making her believe that our lives were in her hands and dependent on her choices. This was not only inappropriate but also unfair, considering Crystal was going through a lot at that time. Nyx and I poorly worded many things both publicly and privately. We should never have let our emotions take over while trying to defend ourselves. We could have handled the situation more maturely. None of these mistakes will be repeated ever again. Crystal has also admitted her mistakes. Many things would have taken a different path if dialogue had been the first option instead of public statements, but both sides have learned a lot.

With all this, I don't want to hear anything about Glitchtale, its creator, or its still-active members. Nor do I want to hear about Hopeless Peaches or their community, or what's left of it. My purpose on the internet is to entertain people with my art, and on the rare occasions I interact publicly, to maintain a calm and healthy environment, as I have been doing for years. My boundaries with fans are very strict and defined. It may sound ambitious or silly to many, but for a long time, I have wanted to make a difference and show that not all artists with a large audience are people who hide dark secrets and seek to harm others. I just want to tell stories and brighten people's days.

People have become used to seeing random individuals or public figures being exposed daily for horrible acts and behavior, which is very depressing. However, when those accusations are false, it is sometimes too late to undo the damage. No one likes to be pointed at and accused of something they didn't commit, especially when those accusations are serious, like harming another human being.

Some people today are confused and believe that I am actually Camila, and that Nyx is Veir, that my husband has been dating minors despite us being married, and that I defended my "pedophile" partner and protected other groomers. People are not only mistaking us for other individuals, but we also don't have anything to do with that other than the 2017 Skype chats. We have been put in some sort of black list from parts of the fandom due to misinformation or because some people seek an excuse to justify their dislike for us by wishing we had harmed real children. This is sickening, sickeing and frustrating if you actually think about the victims not only in fandoms but everywhere. So, please, I beg you to distinguish between names and what has actually happened. Even if you don't like us, don't seek or wish for us to be monsters just to feel proud of yourselves.

I feel I could regain some peace in my heart by having the opportunity to talk to Crystal about all what happened and ending in good terms. This should be the end of the whole controversy regarding the Skype Chat and the GT Server.

Now I would also like to take the opportunity to talk about other accusations still aimed at me to this day, which I once explained on a Twitter thread that was eventually deleted due to unnecesary arguments between fans. I'm being accused of being a horrible and irredeemable person for drawing a comic in my early years in the fandom that insinuated a non-consensual act between Cross and Dream.

Before any explanation, I want to emphasize that I still feel immense regret and shame for creating that nsfw comic, even if I didn't feel comfortable doing so, I still made the decision as an adult and shouldn't have done it in a space where there were minors and people who might find that material triggering. Even though it happened many years ago, it was not right, and I will apologize as many times as necessary.

I haven't had any contact with the creator of Dreamtale since 2017, so I'm unaware of her current viewpoint about this topic in general, but one thing is certain: both of us don't want to be associated with that ship between our characters and want to move on. We want it as far away from us as possible. I don't want anybody to harass her over this situation.

During that time, I was in an unstable relationship with the creator of Dreamtale, with whom I used to roleplay privately. This, along with being pressured to make the ship "canon", led me to create the comics for that ship. Among them was the infamous scene for which I'm accused of supporting rape. This content and private interactions reached a point where the entire situation made me uncomfortable, along with the toxic attitudes in our relationship, I ended up closing the blog, though not before writing a summary of what would happen next in the story -that didn't have any other sexual moments, to clarify-, simply a closure for those who enjoyed the comic. Not long after, we broke up.

After this experience, I began to realize that any NSFW content, both fictional and real, made me very uncomfortable. This is connected to future members of the fandom, like Veir, who tried to sexualize me, and later, ex-friends whom I wanted to please for their support during my growth as a content creator by drawing them private NSFW commissions. I ignored my discomfort, believing I was doing the right thing and that I could trust them, but what happened later finally made me understand that I personally cannot tolerate any of this content.

This group of people shared these private commissions among themselves. One of these people was someone I considered a close friend and was even my Discord moderator but began abusing their power towards other members, trying to escape the consequences just because of our friendship. They even tried to offer me money to remove a character from another artist who would appear in my animation as a cameo, just because they both had personal issues. I decided to end our friendship because I saw no changes or improvements on their part and I felt i was being used as a power tool for them.

It wasn't long after this that I found an alt account of them, posting these private NSFW drawings, tagging me to attract attention as a form of revenge for cutting ties with them (They also got Nyx's phone number to trying to get in contact with me despite what they were doing). These images spread last year among a few people who, unaware of the background, used them as a reason to question me as an artist. However I explained the rest of the story before it became more public, and I appreciate that they listened to me first, however, the damage was already done.

In March of this year, I made a thread on Twitter explaining this and my reason for not supporting or consuming NSFW content. I want to stay away from this whole debate. I don't want my words to be used to attack others. My reasons for not enjoying this are because I had people around me who caused me a lot of harm with this matter, it triggers me, and I don't like any sexual topics around me, even as an adult reaching my 30s. I simply don't like it, I'm not interested, and I want my feelings to be respected. I'm very aware that more than half of my audience are minors, and I know how to behave and what to show in my art, but there are still others looking for any excuse to call me or my husband horrible things. It has happened before with accusations of transphobia for making Frisk and Chara from Xtale male instead of non-binary as they are in the canon version. I have been called a pedophile for portraying Frisk and Muffet from XTale in an innocent romantic context, even though there is no age difference, just because is not following, again, the canon (which with all honesty, I'm not aware if it has been confirmed she is a child or not). I have been accused of racism because of the characters' skin color, and so on.

Being hated in a fandom as an artist with a big following is supposed to be normal, but, to what extent?

I know I should ignore those comments and move on, but I still don't understand why it hurts so much that people want to discredit my efforts as an artist and as a person by believing they have found some dark secret in me… I really can't understand, I just want to live in peace.

My art is my only escape from negative thoughts. Nyx is my only support in real life. I have been working on how to deal with online criticism and harassment, but it is really hard when people tell lies in order to ruin a life, especially when those lies try to make us look like disgusting human beings. This puts me in a lot of distress, mostly because I hate conflict and prefer to be left alone. I want to be a role model in this community by not getting involved with problematic people and toxic environments. Even if there are people who don't like my work, I want to show that there is still a bit of decency and common sense in the art community.

For this reason, this will be the last time I talk about this because I want to focus on what makes me, my husband, and my audience happy. I want to set an example, and I want people to read this, try to understand our position, and give us a chance.

Once again, we deeply regret the mistakes we made in the past.

[pedgito]

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘 | Joel Miller x reader

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summary | you've got an issue and joel's willing to solve it. after all, what are neighbors for?

author's note | this was a prompt from a meet-weird thing i saw ages ago that was originally supposed to be javi, but jo (@undercoverpena) gave me the beautiful idea of making it joel and it spurred this monster.

content warning | established friendship, caught during sex, does the apocalypse having working appliances? probably not, but for the sake of this fic distend belief i beg. oral (eating out from the back), unprotected piv, subtly cocky!joel miller, he's a good ass neighbor, okay?, unbeta'd.

word count — 5.6k

Joel’s fixed this damn machine seven times, convincing himself every time that it was the last time. Shocker, it wasn’t. This time didn’t even last a month. He’s desperate now.

He would usually haul the load all the way to the communal laundry house closer to the group of joined townhomes that housed most of the younger adults—the spry and bright-faced ones who sprung up at the mention of patrol or work, any prospect of toting a gun around with any sense of leadership. They were eager, he couldn’t say the same for himself.

He was old, weathered—years of routine he had created to get the job done and get the hell home.

And truthfully, as he tapped the wrench against the metal machine, chin tucked into his palm as he scratched at his beard, he almost complied with the idea that he would just have to tough it out. Scrounging for parts was nearly impossible—dumb luck, really. In the past several years they’ve picked this town clean, bone-dry.

He’s elbow deep inside the barrel of the dryer when he hears the knock at his door, bumping his head against the rim of it as he exits and cursing under his breath as he pushes to stand, joints creaking and popping in disapproval. 

He can smell you before he sees you, the familiar scent of fresh-baked goods following you everywhere—Joel couldn’t feel guilt for being one of the folks addicted to your cooking. 

Grains had been hard to come by since the epidemic hit, everything was tainted on a global level. It took years and years of Jackson growing its own stock of wheat for things like pie or a nice, gooey cinnamon roll to even be plausible anymore. But, they were managing well so far.

“Saved ‘em for you and Ellie,” You tell him, a small plate of still hot brownies covered with parchment paper, dawning that trademark smile that Joel has come to love, tapping his fingers against the door frame as he passes the plate off to a quickly approaching Ellie.

“Girl’s got the nose of a basset hound,” Joel looks on in amused bewilderment as Ellie throws a mouth-stuffed thanks over her shoulder, “sorry ‘bout her.”

You wave her off whole-heartedly, taking in his sweaty appearance and casual attire. You were used to him in jeans and thick flannels, not a graphic tee and pair of sleep pants. He’s almost always dressed like he had to run at a moment's notice, you weren’t even sure he owned anything different until now.

“Everything good?” You question him, a small laugh escaping your throat.

“Damn washer and dryer is out again,” Joel explains, throwing a hand vaguely over his shoulder.

“Both of them this time?” You ask, “Damn.”

“I can fix ‘em, just a matter of finding the right parts,” Joel tells you, “ looks like I’m gonna have to hand wash again.”

Joel was a friend. You helped friends. It seemed like a no-brainer really, opening your mouth without thinking it through, the kindness tumbling out despite yourself.

“Oh, you’re welcome to load yours up at mine,” You offer and Joel looks immediately apprehensive, the southern charm and well-mannered tone gearing to creep up on you.

“Now, I don’t mean to make you feel like you have to—”

“Joel, I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t feel comfortable with it,” You remind him, “seriously—anytime, just try and bring your own detergent—and for the love of god, empty your pockets before you put ‘em in.”

Joel chuckles tiredly at that, rolling his eyes as he nods in agreement.

“Got it, of course, sweetheart.”

“I leave an extra key under the rug, so if I’m ever not home just come in,” Given that Joel was Tommy’s brother, you knew he wouldn’t be up to any trouble, “sound good?”

“Yep. Anytime—just make myself at home.” Joel confirms and you nod with an even wider smile, waving a pleasant goodbye as you trailed down the stairs and made your way to the house you inhabited next door.

Right, anytime.

Unfortunately, Joel took that a little too literally.

-

Joel managed to scrounge up the courage a day later, tumbling into his house on tired legs after a lengthy patrol up at the cabin lookout, scooping the basket up in his arms and heading out his front door, taking the short walk to your house.

The lights were off, but that wasn’t unusual. Joel knew you liked to stay late nights in the town’s mess hall, often working on prep for the following morning to make the load a little lighter and sleep in a while longer, so when he fishes under the doormat for the key he thinks nothing of it.

And as the door swings open, it is still fairly quiet. Though, he can hear your own dryer running upstairs. He’s got the layout down too, having shared more than a few nightcaps with you. Friend to friend and nothing more, even if you had always felt a little more strongly toward being affectionate. A hug or a kiss on the cheek from time to time, he never pushed you away. Joel never seemed like the type of man who openly showed affection, even toward a friend. But, he was good, reliable–most of the time.

He reaches the stairs with trepidation as the sounds grow louder and part of him wonders if by some uncanny coincidence your dryer might be growling and rumbling on its own final leg. 

The moment his hand reaches that doorknob and turns he realizes he’s made a mistake.

He’s caught you at a…bad time. Head thrown back with your mouth hung wide, whatever noise you’re making was mostly drowned out by the nagging sound of the dryer as it tore through the spin cycle but he hears the tailend of it, a soft moan of pleasure from the man who’s buried inside of you right now, both of you naked from the waist down but your breasts on full display with your shirt tucked under your neck.

“Benny?” Joel asks, slightly amused.

You lift your head at the sound and spot him, your feet nearly slipping out from under you as you scramble to push Benny away, who perks with an even more perplexed, “Joel?”

“Goddamn it, Joel,” You curse behind gritted teeth, furiously readjusting yourself, pulling your sweats back on and over your ass and your shirt down, “What are you doing here?”

Joel looks down at the basket still clinging to his hip before back up at you, wordlessly.

You sigh through your nose with a tight lipped frown, cheeks puffing out as you brushed your fingers through your hair and down—Benny was still scrambling to redress behind you, unable to pull his gaze away from Joel.

“Benny?” Joel mouths at you quietly, eyebrows raised curiously.

You walk toward the now open door slowly as Benny buttons his pants and you shoot Joel daggers with your stern gaze.

Cut it out.

Joel smirks slightly, cheek dimpling with the action as he side-steps Benny, who leans around you and kisses your cheek—it was a kind gesture but given the situation, in horrible taste. You force a polite smile and once Benny is a far enough distance you hit Joel firmly in the arm as he passes by you and into the laundry room.

You walk Benny to the door with a million thoughts racing through your head, offering a distracted goodbye before you’re locking the door and racing back upstairs with determined footsteps and Joel has already loaded his clothes in the washer, turning the knob to set the load size and time.

“Benny?” He echoes his earlier questions, “Really?”

“What? Are you judging me?”

“No—just, that kid’s had quite an obsession with you for some time now. Just…surprised is all.”

Your lips pull together in a disapproving but nonchalant frown, taking his words for the bullshit they are.

“When I said anytime that did not extend to the middle of the night, Joel.”

“You’re usually still at work,” He supplies—and really, he’s not wrong, “M’sorry. I mean that.”

“Well, now I’ve gotta deal with the fact you’ve seen me naked,” You cross your arms over your chest and lean against the doorframe and Joel’s eyes track you for a moment, smiling with amusement at the thought.

“What? You want a fair trade?” Joel teases, “‘Cause, darlin’. I don’t mind—but it was an accident. Besides, ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

He means it in a broader sense, but you can’t help the eye roll it induces. 

“No, no,” You chew at your bottom lip, watching Joel place the empty basket on top of the washer, “I can finish that up if you want to get some sleep. I know you had a long patrol today.”

“Oh, did you?”

He’s teasing you.

“Don’t push it, old man,” Joel shakes his head at that jab and chuckles, “Ellie clued me in when she picked up some sandwiches for her and Dina earlier.

He’s not going to pass on the offer, though. He nods, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

“Jesus—just…Benny?” Joel reiterates again, “Didn’t think the kid had it in ‘em.”

“Out,” You say with an over-pronunciation as you drag his slow and progressive steps further out of your laundry room and into the hall, “or you’re off my dessert list for a month, Miller.”

Joel smiles at you knowingly, “You wouldn’t dare,” He retorts, knowing you too well.

You wouldn’t make him suffer like that. Or Ellie, who wouldn’t hesitate to murder Joel if he robbed her of that pleasure. Not literally…but, she would carry a few choice words for him.

“Seriously, though, thank you,” He nods, leaning down to press a kiss into the crown of your head—an often familiar gesture when you parted after a long night of nonsensical talk and a couple glasses of wine or whiskey, depending on how hard the day had been, “I appreciate it, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah—”

“And I do apologize for…not knocking and showin’ up at such a weird time.”

You shrug, “You’re forgiven. Just…don’t give Benny a hard time. He’s a good guy.”

“You’ve got my word, darlin’.”

Joel was determined to be on his best behavior, clearly.

-

It takes Joel a couple weeks to find the parts he needs and luckily there are no more run-ins on your midnight sex-scapades, still feeling the embarrassment from the first one. Joel doesn’t even seem to remember it after a couple days, thankfully. He was bypassing it for your own benefit, truthfully. And you knew that.

Selfishly, you're glad to have your appliances back to yourself. 

They’re good, solid, reliable—until they aren’t.

Your washer shits itself mid-load and you can hear it from downstairs. A loud screeching noise before an even louder pop that has you groaning loudly because you know. You can feel it.

You can’t even bring yourself to go check, peering through the window of your kitchen and catching a fresh pot of coffee in the house across from yours, a man coming into view and his stark white shirt contrasting the black coffee cup in his hands. He catches you out of the corner of his eye and looks at you with a quizzical amusement, smile tugging at his face.

Joel was always up before the sun rose, so with the sun just creeping into the sky you’re sure that’s his third or fourth cup of coffee. He reaches over his sink and fiddles with the latch on his window before heaving it up, watching as you struggled to do that same but eventually managed.

“You run outta coffee again?” He asks, sipping at the bitter, black coffee in his mug.

“No,” You reply quickly, slightly exasperated as you chew at your bottom lip, debating how to pop the question and feeling nervous under Joel’s intense gaze, curiously wondering if he’s still picturing you naked. He’s never explicitly mentioned it since, but you have caught him in the act.

Wandering eyes, gazes catching when your back is turned for half a second as you bend down or move in a way that exposes too much skin.

“My washer broke,” You cut to the chase and Joel chuckles at how comical it is, in hindsight.

Was this karma? It was definitely karma. 

You’ve never asked Joel for anything—despite your often bouts of kindness toward him you never expected anything in return, not even a favor.

“Doors open,” Joel nods toward his front door out of view, an invitation like you offered him.

You didn’t even hesitate, pushing the window close and bounding up the stairs.

-

You’re already loading your things into his washer before he appears around the corner, peeking his head in, coffee cup still in hand as he takes a few more steps and leans against the wall beside the washing machine and your eyes glance at him briefly before you continue moving the clothes, watching him watch you from behind the rim of his mug.

“I can start them and come back,” You tell him, “so I won’t be lingering around here all day.”

“No Benny?”

You stand up as you close the washer, deadpan stare pointed in his direction.

“You can be such a nosy neighbor, you know that?”

Joel shrugs, a smug smile covered behind his sip of coffee.

“It was just a few times. Besides he’s…too much for me.”

You turn the dial to start the load and it rumbles to life with a simple press of a button.

“You wanna talk about it?”

It wasn’t completely unnatural for you two—you knew quite a bit about Joel now: his life before, his work, his daughter…all things that come with trust and time. He’s waited patiently for you and you’ve given him peeks into your life, but nothing like this.

“It’s a long story, Joel.”

“Got time,” He smiles slightly, “I’ll go grab you a cup of coffee—sit down.”

You look around briefly, not a chair in sight. So, you raise yourself up just enough that you can slide your ass over the top of the washer, bare feet dangling off the floor and you wait, the subtle and quiet shake from the beginning of the load process keeping the awkward silence at bay.

Joel turns the corner a few minutes later with your cup, made up just to your liking and you nod with a gentle smile, taking the cup from his hand and allowing yourself a few generous sips.

“So—that night, you caught us,” You can laugh at the instances now, so you do in a soft, clipped manner, “it wasn’t the first—it had been a month by that point and he just caught me by surprise, showed up that night and things just got a little out of hand.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise in interest but he urges you to continue, leaning against the wall in front of you now, resting his mug on the shelf just above his head as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“He’s a good guy, don’t get me wrong—but I don’t do serious…I can’t, now with how things are. And I know a lot of people think the opposite, seize the moment and all that shit,” You sigh, a deep and heavy sound that expands and releases from your chest, “he was already talking about moving in, the idea of us having kids—so that night I just tried to distract him.”

“With sex? Seems a little…counter-productive, don’t you think?”

“Don’t judge me, Joel,” You warn him but it’s edged with a playfulness that Joel recognizes. You didn’t have a mean, deceptive bone in your body and Joel knew that from the first conversation he had with you.

“I needed him to shut up,” You groan at the thought of the conversation as it replays in your mind, “I’m trying to wash my clothes, he’s talking to me about babies. I do not want kids, Joel. Ever. At least none that are biologically mine. Who would want to bring a kid into this world?”

Well…Tommy. The thought comes to you after the words have already left your mouth and your heart sinks into your stomach, looking at Joel apologetically.

“Sweetheart, don’t even try to apologize. Ain’t nothing wrong with it.”

“It makes me sound horrible, I know but—”

“I’ve done my time—it’s none of my business how others choose to live. Besides, I’m pushing sixty, I don’t have to worry about all that…sorry, I’m not trying to be crude here.”

You nod knowingly with a smirk tugging at your lips, taking another sip of coffee before handing the mug off for him to place it next to his own, ready to slide off of the washer before Joel interjects with another question that catches you off guard.

“He treat you right, at least?”

You tilt your head with that same knowing smirk, pushing Joel away at his hip with your foot as he leans up from his position against the wall—Joel’s never flirted, always promptly skirted around the issue and went about it more gentlemanly. He’s not abrasive and straightforward like most of the men in Jackson, but damn did he know how to make you feel special.

Undivided attention, constant subtle compliments, giving up some much-needed sleep for a simple late night drink with you—part of you was too terrified to make your own move and make it clear just how badly you wanted just a small taste of him.

You’ve heard whispering, minimal talk from a few of the women in town. Joel didn’t often make his rounds but when he did, he left an impression. And you had every right to be jealous, because with him standing in front of you now—you knew it would be easy to say no and he would fix you right up, finally crossing that line that he’s been carefully dancing around for a few years.

“He’s a bit…timid,” You shrug, “and he doesn’t really…”

The air lingers and the side of Joel’s mouth pulls up—you don’t have to say it.

“Joel, don’t do that,” You shove at his shoulder as he approaches you, his hands pressing into the contraption you’re on, curled around the metal, “—he’s just…eager, but not in a good way.”

There’s a glint in Joel’s eye that leads you to believe he’s not thinking about Benny’s less than experienced sex life, feeling the sudden jitteriness from the coffee as your chest rises with a deep, shaky breath and Joel eyes the time over your shoulder.

Forty-five minutes and some change, plus the time to dry because Joel already knows you aren’t going to trouble yourself with walking the damp laundry through this cold, muggy weather.

“So, no then?” Joel asks.

He could have treated you better, sure. But, he wasn’t the worst.

But, the way Joel is staring at you knows makes everything and everyone dull in comparison.

You shake your head in agreement, chewing at the inside of your bottom lip as your hands fall to your lap, his hands ncreasingly closer to the tights covering your legs, suddenly feeling his thumb graze your hip. You both glance down at the action and your breathing halts, watching as his right hand slowly engulfs your thigh, fingers digging into the soft material and dimpling your skin underneath, his thumb only a few centimeters from dipping into the inside of your thigh.

They part on their own, welcoming Joel in wordlessly and his left hand echoes the other. His face is level with your own, staring down at your lips briefly before meeting your eyes and you’ve seen that look before—the adoration when he thought you weren’t watching, secretly you had become good at catching those glances, but Joel wasn’t trying to hide it now.

And it quickly dawns on you in the moment—he was jealous. Of Benny. Or really, any man that had come before him. But, he was using him as the scapegoat.

Honestly, you couldn’t even care.

“You want someone to treat you right?” He speaks softly and if you weren’t so close you wouldn’t have heard him, “I got you, sweetheart. I swear.”

He’s not looking at you anymore, eyes dragging down the bridge of your nose to your lips again. But, you are looking at him, flooded with that tricky feeling that creeps up on you when you want things you know you shouldn’t.

“Joel, I told you—I don’t do serious,” And you hold your breath for the response, wondering if that would send this moment crumbling to dust, but Joel doesn’t miss a step.

“Good for you,” Joel dotes, “neither do I.”

Then he’s on you, the press of his lips in a heated kiss sends you tumbling back, caught by the warm slide of his palm over your back to pull you in, throwing your arms over his shoulders as he pulls back briefly, just enough for you to open your mouth to speak, but his tongue finds its way inside and the words fade away.

Just friendly, my ass—you think.

If you had known he kissed like this—you would’ve jumped at the opportunity months ago; a night spent drinking too many glasses of wine and laughing over some movie far before your time, but not his. 

He was so entranced, giving you all the details, but you couldn’t help giggling over it, too touchy to be considered friendly.

You’d both cut it short quickly when Ellie popped in halfway through the movie, and beyond that, it never grew.

Until now.

“Sweet,” Joel notes with a subtle smile, his hand dwarfing the size of your neck as his fingers wrapped around the column of your throat, holding you firmly in place as he maneuvered you toward and away from the kiss as he pleased, swallowing every tiny moan that escaped your lips when his other hand squeezed at your thigh just a little too hard.

“All that sugar,” In your coffee, the taste lingering on your lips and he licks around them teasingly, pulling away briefly to look at you, your eyebrows raising in question as the gears turn in his head, “—you still with me?”

“I’m just wonderin’ if you’re okay with this,” Joel speaks candidly, his eyes trained on his thumb as it rubs against the middle of your throat, traveling up under your chin and tipping your head up slightly, watching as you swallowed, “before I take this further, jus’ need to know.”

You nod jerkily, not even a second of hesitation. 

“You would have known the moment you kissed me, Joel.”

In turn, Joel nods slowly before he speaks, stealing the air from your chest.

“Alright then, pull these down for me,” He tugs gently at the material clinging to your thighs before both of his hands find the spot behind your knees and tug until your feet hit the floor, “and push that pretty little ass out for me.”

The absurdity of this language on his tongue makes you giggle but abide in an instant, struggling slightly as the material bunches at your ankles and Joel helps you the rest of the way, tossing your pants aside before he’s kneeling despite how his body protests, too eager to give you a taste of the pleasure you deserve and he’s grabbing the cheeks of your ass and squeezing them between his hands before he’s leaning up to bite playful at the soft flesh.

He groans quietly against your skin, the press of his aquiline nose against your ass as his fingers fold around the string of your underwear and pull, dropping them down to your ankles and off and then his tongue is flat against the seam of your cunt, gasping as you fall forward and your own fingers clawing against nothing.

“Joel!” You squeak out as his fingers dig hard into your ass, forcing you up on your tiptoes as devours, licking into your cunt as it quivers around his tongue. 

Your hand pressed against the wall in front of you to keep your chest from hitting the washer, feeling your pussy tighten around the finger that enters alongside his expert tongue, a soft groan erupting out of him from behind you. That smug motherfucker was attempting a teasing huh under his breath as he busied himself with the task of eating you out from the back and you couldn’t even think straight. 

‘C’mon, baby,” He coos between his alternating licks and slurps of the heady slick that dripped from your cunt, “come all over my mouth, let me taste that sugar.”

It’s absurd, the way he’s speaking to you now. Your eyes squeeze shut as his thumb finds your clit amongst the chaos of his tongue and fingers, face heating up at how noisy your cunt sounded over the dull shake of the washer and Joel’s satisfied moans, occasionally massaging at the back of your thigh when your legs shake with the creeping feeling of your impending orgasm.

“Oh,” You squeal, reaching behind you to dig your fingers into his hair, panting out in desperation, “—fuck, don’t stop! Joel, right—right there,” and then glance you take back at him, his eyes peeking open from his position below, on his knees and dutiful to you and you alone, well…

It sends you tumbling over the edge as his thumb rubs over your clit quickly, soothing you through the aftermath as he laps up the mess you’ve made all over yourself, dragging his tongue along the inside of your thigh because if you knew anything about Joel, he didn’t waste a meal. 

And you were just about the finest he’s tasted.

You clear your throat as you rest your feet flat on the floor, feeling the faint quake in your legs as Joel rises slowly, forcing you to swallow down a giggle as he winces and he can see it on your face.

“Worth it,” He excuses himself, “don’t look at me like that.”

“No old man jokes?” You sound sad and Joel can’t believe it.

He shakes his head.

But, the smile that breaks out on your face quickly diminishes any comeback he has.

You begin to push him away with a hand gripped in his shirt, carefully avoiding the obvious bulge in his sweats as you reach for your tights, ready to redress and drop to your own knees as a favor but his fingers are wrapping around your wrist, pulling your attention back to him.

“I meant it,” Joel tells you, tilting his head to catch your gaze.

You smile wide and tilt your head to mirror him, “I think you proved your point—Benny is a pathetic man who doesn’t know how to make me come, blah blah…”

“My job ain’t done if you’re still thinkin’ about him, darlin’.”

His eyebrows raise in challenge.

Okay, you’re game.

Wordlessly you allow the hands at your hip that guide you toward the front of the joined appliances, his fingers sliding under your top until you get the hint to pull it off, your breasts bouncing free from the shirt—the few bras you had were already in the wash, big deal.

Joel chuckles and stops for a moment, admiring the sight of your breasts for the second time that month, albeit more openly this time. He reaches forward and rubs his thumb along your nipple, watching the nub harden under his touch and you bite at your bottom lip, eye fluttering closed at how sensitive they were to touch, something other men never took the time to notice.

“You like that?” Joel asks with a creeping grin.

You nod, watching as he squeezed your tits in his hands, showing your nipples ample attention as he circled them with his thumb before leaning down slightly and swiping his tongue over the hardened nubs, sucking your breast into his mouth and his eyes peer up, gauging your reaction which quickly developed from a soft giggle to a loud moan.

“Clothes,” You breath out, “off—if you still have a point to prove.”

A point that you wanted proven. Hard.

Joel pulls away and yanks his shirt over his head, allowing you an unobscured view of the mix of muscled shoulders and his softened stomach, running your hand over the patch of hair at the center of his chest and down, right along his hips until his own fingers hook around the fabric and pull his sweats and boxers down in one motion, his cock catching against the edge of his waistband before it bobs back up toward his stomach.

You find yourself smiling despite yourself, forgetting for a moment that Joel was standing there and watching you, feeling your mouth water at the sight of him hard and leaking at how just getting a small taste of you had turned him on that much, precum leaking slowly from the tip and he wraps his hand around himself, other hand tapping at your chin to drag your attention back up to his face, reminding you he was still there.

“Got somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart?”

You shake your head furiously, “No, no—no, nothing. Just, uh—”

“I’ll start slow,” He tells you and with the size of him, thick and girthy in ways you’ve only imagined or pictured in your head, it’s daunting, “are you still alright with all of this?”

Your face softens and you nod, appreciating the repeated check-ins, the need for confirmation, but it pulls at your heart as you wonder why he feels the need to ask so much. As if he was fearful you would change your mind on a dime—Joel was fine with that, but he was more worried about the change in dynamic. Thankfully, you were determined for that not to be the case.

“I’m pretty tough,” You shrug, a playful smile gracing your face.

Joel nods absently as his fingers drag along your waist before catching behind your knee and pulling it up over his hip, both of your eyes dragging down to his cock as he tugged at himself a few times, his brow furrowed as he spread your lips apart with the head, dipping his hips down slightly to catch against your hole before he pushes in slow, one solid stroke that steals the sound from your throat and transfers to his own. Joel groans out softly as he pushes into you, his hands gravitating toward your face and wrapping around the sides of your neck, tilting your head back to mouth at your skin, his tongue dragging along your collarbone before sucking and nipping gently at your skin.

“Don’t I know it,” Joel responds after a while, “find something to hold onto.”

Your soft giggle of excitement shoots down to your core and your fingers wrap around the edges of the washer and Joel pulls back swiftly before he’s snapping his hips back into you before repeating the process several times, the jolt of the machine hitting the concrete wall behind you drowned out by your loud moans, quickly swallowed up by Joel’s lips as he pulls your mouth to his, breathing into it with every sharp snap of his hips.

“Harder,” You beg, biting at his bottom lip as he groans, using his fingers intertwined into the hair at the nape of your neck now to pull your head back and he pulls his hips back quick, bottoming himself out inside of you so forcefully you feel like your legs might give out, his cock rubbing against your already too sensitive g-spot and continuously finding a way to bring you closer and closer to the edge, “fuck—yes, yes. Joel, oh my god—”

“Yeah,” Joel goads you, his eyes drawn closed as he tries to keep his own orgasm at bay, “give it to me, baby—wanna watch you make a mess on my cock, alright?”

Easy, you laugh airily and feel the instinctive squeeze of your walls around Joel’s cock as he pulls your face to his, foreheads pressed against each other as he angles his hips back and slams into you one last time before you come undone, head falling back in a similar position to how he caught you a few weeks ago, this time for him. 

Your grab for his shoulders suddenly, blunt fingernails digging into his skin and he takes a few harsh breaths through his nose before he’s pulling out, hand grasping his cock as he jerked himself a few seconds before he comes in thick, short spurts against your stomach, squeezing at the head of his cock as he drags it through the mess he’s made.

His expression is nothing short of mesmerizing, mouth hung open just enough that his tongue can drag over his bottom lip before his teeth are taking its place, eyes drawn to your skin.

Wordlessly, he pulls away on his own pair of shaky legs as he reaches for his wrinkled, worn shirt and brings it to your stomach, cleaning up the mess with a faint smile on his face.

“You know, I think it might take me a bit to fix my washer,” You tease, “so—I might be over here bothering you for a while.”

Joel peers up at you, his head still tucked down as he wiped at your stomach.

“Fine with me.”

Then he’s peering over your shoulder, watching as the washer time inched toward zero, dinging behind you. You turn around, letting your leg fall from his hip finally, ass brush against him in the process and Joel can’t help the way his eyes refuse to leave the sight of it.

Only feeling slightly guilty when you catch him this time, not giving him the pass you usually do.

“We’ve still got about an hour left if I dry them here,” You tell him, “anything else you wanna prove?”

Joel’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, eyes dragging up toward the upper level of his house before flicking back toward you, a smile plastered on your face.

“I can think of a few things.”

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[identifying-cars-in-posts]

A long overdue update:

Hi everyone. Long time no see. I literally have not opened Tumblr since the last time I posted here. Hope everyone is doing ok. Figured I owed y’all an apology and explanation for kinda just vanishing.

First, I did in fact get a car! It’s a 2015 Nissan Versa Note. I don’t particularly like it but a friend gave me a deal on it that I couldn’t turn down. Once my life stabilizes I’m probably going to sell it and buy an old truck, maybe a 70s Ford. I’d love a little sports car or a land yacht but rear wheel drive is a bit impractical for brutal New England winters, and the Jeep really put me in Old American Truck Mode. But yes I have a car now!

Second, unfortunately this is an official notice of hiatus. When I last posted saying I was taking some time off it was because I had just had an incredibly stressful move and did not have the energy to keep this blog up. I figured I’d take some time to get settled in, relax, and then pick this back up after a week or two, but the last month has been really rough - the short version is one of the people I was living with turned out to be a pretty horrendous human being who managed to get everybody living in the house essentially kicked out via sheer drama. Within a month and a half. It’s a long story but tl:dr if you quite literally slander a property manager with heavy unfounded accusations of horrible crimes, they’ll probably bail from the whole situation. And since they’re gone the landlord has to hand ownership of everything over to a company that’s forcing everyone still here to vacate. I’m now fighting to not have to live in aforementioned Nissan Versa through the aforementioned brutal New England winter. On top of that, I’m a retail manager so we’re going into our busiest most stressful season, so that’s been an extra level of exhaustion.

So what does that mean for this blog? Well, as I said, I’m officially going on indefinite hiatus, as are the projects I was working on in relation, including the reference website. I’m really sorry, I’m just way too stressed and dealing with way too much. If I could, I would just hand off administrative power to someone else, but this is a sideblog so I can’t hand off login credentials without also giving access to my main/personal account. It’s my biggest regret of this account, but when I started it I never expected it to blow up the way it did back in September - I had no reason to expect to need it to be its own entirely separate blog. I love what I was doing here and I thought that it might even be a nice distraction from everything going on, but the upkeep required with this blog is just more than I can deal with right now. I hope that things settle down soon and that I can genuinely come back here and enjoy what I was doing, but I just need literally anything to level out in my real life and to not be in 100% survival mode, because at the moment I literally do not have the energy to pour into this.

Anyway. Sorry for the long post, I’m not good at not being overly verbose. I’m really sorry for kind of abandoning this project, and I hope I can get back to it relatively soon, it just might be a while.

In the mean time, I hope those of y’all who I turned onto cars as a potential hobby find some other good outlets! I highly recommend Donut Media’s series “Up to Speed” on YouTube, as well as the channels Regular Car Reviews, Doug DeMuro, Garbage Time, and Aging Wheels. All great YouTube channels that are both informative and very approachable and fun.

Godspeed and much love. Hope to see y’all soon

- Identifying Cars in Posts admin ❤️

[a-aexotic]

request for rafe:

rafe is being oddly quiet when everyone in his friend group is pestering him about getting a one night stand. Reader walks in and he just goes all starry eyed, but he doesn’t wanna admit he loves her even though… its so obvious. (grumpy x sunshine)

(love your work, i hope you’re doing well 🫶🏻)

pairing. rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings. fluff!!!, ooc rafe, mention of weed + alcohol, one kiss at the end, lmk if i missed anything!

summary. rafe has the biggest crush on y/n, when topper finds out he decides to help his best friend get with the girl of his dreams.

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

Rafe had just about enough of his friends. It'd been months since he'd had a girl over and they were starting to worry. Why had he suddenly just stopped liking girls?

Topper was worrying maybe Rafe was about to just end it all. He knew Rafe wouldn't actually but they hadn't seen Rafe this sober in years.

"Dude, she's checking you out." Topper whispered to Rafe. He looked over at the girl and she was indeed checking him but he immediately gave her the cold shoulder and turned away.

Topper was confused. She was pretty; nice bathing suit, pretty eyes, a big ass. What more could Rafe want?

"Nah, I'm good, man." Rafe sighed as leaned back into his chair. He had eyes for one girl and one girl only, and she wasn't there yet. Topper furrowed his brows.

"Dude, what? She's a total catch, I mean, look at that-"

Rafe cut him off with a glare making Topper scoff and turn away. Was something wrong? He was getting more and more worried about Rafe.

"Dude, you okay?" Topper mumbled. They were at this fun party, hot girls everywhere, weed everywhere and he doesn't want anything at all. That wasn't like Rafe at all.

Rafe rolled his eyes and groaned in annoyance. Topper's nagging was really getting on his nerves. "Yes. I am. I just don't want to fuck every single girl I see, okay?"

"What about smoking?"

"I don't want to anymore, okay? That shit's bad for your lungs." He remembers you telling one of your friends that you hated smoking because of how bad it was for your health.

Hearing Rafe say that made Topper fully think he had somehow shifted into a different parallel universe. This was not the Rafe he'd known since third grade. This was a doppelganger because no way in hell that Rafe Cameron just insisted that smoking was bad for your health. Topper's jaw was on the floor.

Rafe looked back at Topper with an annoyed expression but quickly shifted his gaze to someone behind him. His expression morphed into a delighted one.

There you were, with all your glory. Pink tube top, light blue jean shorts with your iconic white high-top converse. His cheeks had begun to turn pink as Topper had to where he was looking and suddenly it clicked. Rafe had a crush.

You were greeting your friends and Rafe caught your eye. You sent a happy wave his way and he gratefully answered with another wave.

Topper smirked and then looked back at Rafe. "Oh, I see what's going on here."

Rafe's expression dropped as he turned to Topper. "What?"

"You like Y/N."

Rafe rolled his eyes. "You just realized that, dude?"

Topper was again, shocked, by Rafe for the second time tonight. Rafe admitting his feelings? Where was Rafe and what was this imposter doing in his place?

"I mean, who wouldn't. She's gorgeous and smart. I just wish she wasn't so nice, it's making it harder to bond with her." Rafe mumbled the last part, making Topper nod along.

Topper had known Rafe essentially all his life and he's never been whipped for any girl. He wanted to know why she was so special. "Can I help?"

"No." Rafe said simply, making Topper scoff.

"I'm really friendly, man. I can like, help you, trust me." Topper put his hand on Rafe's shoulder and squeezed it. "Do you have her number?"

"No, I don't. I've been trying to send her an dm but I feel like that's not classy enough. Plus she probably has like 100 other guys in her dm's, I wanna stand out." Rafe ranted, genuinely perplexed.

Topper sighed, "you're making it way too hard. Just go up to her."

Rafe turned to Rafe, glaring daggers his way. "It's not that easy."

"Yes, it is. It's really not that hard. She's just a girl." Topper spoke, like it was the easiest thing ever.

"Just a girl?!-"

"Shh, Rafe. Get up and talk to her, be a man." Topper pushed Rafe up and away from the chair, making Rafe grumble. He noted to make sure to punch Topper for that later.

He looked for you at the party, Topper's voice echoing in his mind. Be a man, be a man, be a man. Rafe turned a corner and then there you were, sitting with your friends. He felt his heart drop and Topper's voice was fading. He was just standing there, like an idiot.

You turned and you saw him standing there and you had a big smile on your face. You excused yourself from your friends and walked over to him.

He immediately whipped his gaze to the seat next to him and sat there immediately, trying to look like he was doing something. He wanted to face palm himself; when did he become such an awkward guy? He was usually so smooth, especially with girls.

"Hey." He recognized your voice and his heart skipped a beat as he turned to face you. How could someone be so pretty?

Rafe cleared his throat as he smiled. "Hi."

You took a seat next to him. "Noticed you just standing there, I was wondering where Topper was? He's usually always with you."

He groaned subconsciously at the mention of Topper. "He's clingy."

You laughed at that. "Yeah, but that's okay. That's kinda cute."

"Topper? Cute?" Rafe stumbled out. Did you like Topper? He made a disgusted face at that; how could a 10 like you, end up with a 3 like Topper?

"No, he's..." You tried to find the right wording. "He's okay." You tried not be mean, he was attractive - but not you.

Rafe relaxed at that. "Yeah, he is. He's just okay, I don't know how anyone could find him attractive."

You laughed but instantly stopped yourself, "that's mean." You still had a smile on your face. Rafe smiled at that.

"Why are you just sitting here alone?"

Rafe shrugged, "Topper was getting on my nerves. He, uh... wanted me to smoke."

You furrowed your brows in disgust. "Wow, did you?"

He shook his head in slight delight. "Nope. Smoking isn't for me."

"Wow, I'm glad to see someone not succumb to peer pressure, good for you." You smiled knowingly.

You've known Rafe since middle school; you know he loves smoking, you've seen him scream and break a chair in half then jump into the pool: no sober person would do that. You weren't mad that he lied to you, you found it sort of endearing.

"Yeah." He nodded. "It's just like, really bad for your lungs."

You couldn't help but giggle at his words: he was literally you quoting word for word, not deliberately. It's so cute. "God, you're so cute."

You both stopped at stared at each other for a few seconds. A blush rose from Rafe as you felt your heart literally stop.

"You think I'm cute?" Rafe spoke quietly, an octave above a whisper. You could barely hear him.

You couldn't get yourself out this one. You couldn't just lie, might as well just rip the band-aid off. You nodded. "Yeah, well you are."

"I am?"

You laughed at that, trying not to turn red from embarrassment. "Yes, Rafe. You're cute."

"You're cute, too." Rafe felt like a little kid confessing to his crush and he was scared of rejection, he was avoiding your gaze. I mean, you already had confessed.

You found it adoring how shy he was. Like mentioned, you'd known him since he was a kid and you've watched him grow. He was always confident and it was a sweet how shy he was all because of you.

You grabbed his hand and his skin began feeling hot as he looked back up you. Your hand was just as soft as he imagined it would be. You both made eye contact. Rafe's eyes kept wandering down to your lips, then back to your eyes. It was a silent gesture of saying 'kiss me.' As you were leaning in, you heard a shout from behind.

You both turned to see Kelce and Topper. They walked towards you both, a huge smile on their faces. Rafe's anger was radiating from his body; he could not believe his jackass friends just ruined his almost kiss with you.

"Wow! My plan worked, Rafe. You guys are holding hands now, see! Told ya being a man worked." Topper was obviously drunk and oblivious to the awkwardness he was causing. Kelce nodded.

"I didn't know you liked Y/N, man. The more you know." Kelce talked to Rafe. He turned to you with a smile. "I don't blame you, dude, you are gorgeous."

You nodded and smiled at that. "Thank you, Kelce. I appreciate it." You know he didn't mean it in a weird or creepy way, so you found it endearing.

He cleared his throat. "You dumbasses are ruining my moment. Can you guys fucking leave?" He whispered to them, trying to make sure that you didn't hear it. But you were pretty close to him so you could.

Kelce and Topper looked at each other, then you, then back at Rafe. They nodded. "Okay, bye Y/N."

They both left and Rafe turned his attention back to you. "See what I'm dealing with? They act like fucking children, I swear."

"Rafe."

"What?" He turned to you and you put your hand on his face, leaning in to plant a single kiss on his lips. He was so caught off guard but when you pulled away, he instantly wanted more.

You smiled. "Let me give you my number."

"Y-Yeah, sure." He was still in shock, stumbling over his words, the taste of your lipgloss still on your lips. He handed you his phone.

You looked down at in and smiled. "You have to unlock it." You held in your laugh at how out of order he was just because of one kiss. He took his phone back, opening it with Face ID. He gave it back to you.

You put in your number and then put in your name. You then opened his camera, snapping a quick picture then putting it as your contact picture.

You gave it back with a grin as you stood up. "Text me, okay?"

He nodded, "Sure. Yeah." As you walked away, he couldn't help but lick his lips and the taste of your lipgloss was still on it. He couldn't believe that just happened.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Remember Me? (Part five)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: after this, I won't be tagging future parts as Rhysand x reader because this is turning into an eris x reader fic. Also, I'm sorry that it took me so long to post this! I'll try my best to be more frequent with updates ❣️

•○🌑○•

A loud squeal broke the silence, waking Y/n from her nap.

She groaned, turning her head, trying to bury her face in the pillow in hopes that it would drown out the noise of laughter and feet chasing around the house.

It was useless.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes before she squinted at the window, trying to gauge how long she had slept. The sun was high overhead when she had gone to sleep, and judging by its position now, she had slept for an hour at best.

Standing, she stretched. She looked around the room once as she pulled her hair up into a messy bun before she went downstairs.

The noise became louder and louder as she descended the stairs. Fin came running towards her, his little body slamming into her legs making her wobble dangerously. By the time she had regained her balance, he came into view.

At some point, he had discarded his heavy embroidered tunic, choosing to stay in the simple inner white shirt he wore. The shirt was thin, almost sheer, and a simple rope crisscrossing over Eris's chest held the garment together.

His gaze rose from Fin's body to Y/n's eyes, his grin faltering as he slowed down, panting. He gave her a quick once over, his eyes flickering to hers again. But then he grinned, returning his attention back to Fin.

"May I ask what the two of you are doing?" Y/n gently ran her fingers through Fin's soft white hair, slightly damp with sweat, her other hand resting on his shoulder.

He grinned up at her, his chin resting on her stomach as his hands clutched at her dress tightly. "We are playing. He is a soldier and I am the criminal. After he catches me, I will become the soldier and he the criminal."

Y/n smiled. "Are you not tired?"

Fin shook his head vigorously, his eyes sparkling.

Eris cleared his throat. Both mother and son looked at him. "I was wondering... if I could take Fin out?"

Y/n cocked her head. "Why?"

Eris shrugged. "I just thought it would be fun."

Y/n studied Eris.

It had been almost a month since that night when he had showed up at her door at midnight, and so far, he'd visited Fin almost everyday. Y/n was still trying to figure out why Eris was so interested in her son. She couldn't, for the life of her, make sense of Eris.

But his intentions didn't seem bad, so that was... a good thing?

Finally, she nodded, sighing. "Go. Have fun."

The hope on Fin's face turned into joy, and he turned to Eris with the biggest grin on his face. Eris returned it, grabbing the little boy's hand and sprinting off towards the living room.

"We'll be back soon!" Eris called out, and Y/n watched as he buttoned the last button on his tunic and led Fin out of the house. Or rather, Fin dragged Eris out of the house, the red haired male laughing at the youngling's enthusiasm.

A small smile bloomed on Y/n's face, and she had to make a conscious effort to wipe it off her face as she set to make dinner.

•○🌑○•

Y/n paused with her teacup midway to her mouth as a knock sounded on the door. It hadn't been all that long since Fin and Eris had left, and she wondered if it was them. By the excitement in Eris's eyes, Y/n had figured it would be quite some time before they returned.

The knock came again, more confident this time, and Y/n rushed to stand from the couch. "Coming!"

She set her cup on the center table, walking briskly towards the door.

And then she opened the door.

Which was honestly not the best choice, she decided as soon as she got a glimpse of who stood on the other side. She wondered if it would have been better if she just pretended that no one was home instead of screaming to let her guest know she was coming.

The only thing that kept her from slamming the door shut in his face was his appearance.

He looked like he'd been through hell.

And if Y/n was the one saying it, then it was a serious issue, because she had seen him go through literal hell under the mountain. She had seen him at his worst, and she still had never seen him this haggard.

She studied him, her hand tightening on the door handle.

There were dark circles under his eyes, so dark they made him look a little pale. Or maybe he had gone pale. His eyes were tired, no light in his those beautiful purple orbs Y/n had once adored so much.

"Y/n..."

The hoarseness in his voice snapped her out of the haze that had fallen over her, and she began to close the door.

But she couldn't do it because Rhysand's hand snapped out, his palm flat against the wood of the door. "Please, Y/n, I just want to talk. Please."

The sadness, the guilt in the once smooth, now rough voice gave her pause.

She wondered what to do. Her heart told her to let him in, not only into the house but in her and her son's life. Her brain scoffed at her heart's pathetic response and told her to slam the door shut in the bastard's face.

After a moment of contemplating, she decided to let him into the house, and her brain shook its head at her.

But the grateful look in his eyes prompted her to ignore her sane mind.

She shut the door behind her, watching quietly as Rhysand took in the toys lying haphazardly throughout the room, the papers drawn on with crayons, the chocolate stains on a shirt of Fin lying nearby. Y/n hadn't even noticed the shirt lying there. Maybe Eris had changed Fin's clothes when Y/n was sleeping.

She watched as Rhysand swallowed, his throat bobbing. There was so much emotions swirling in his eyes, Y/n had the urge to pull him in for a hug and never let go, whispering promises of forever and a family in his ear, just like before.

Just like before, when Feyre hadn't existed in their lives and it was just the two of them, keeping each other alive and sane under the mountain.

Y/n sighed, pushing those thoughts away. She couldn't think like that. She wouldn't.

The expulsion of air from her made Rhysand turn around, sadness and a plea in his eyes. Maybe a little tint of hope, but Y/n decided she did not see it.

"What did you want to talk about?" She muttered, wrapping her arms across her chest.

A small smile curled Rhysand's lips, one that didn't meet his eyes and told Y/n that it was a ruse because he was trying to not break down.

She could read him like a book, but maybe that's what happened when you spent almost half a century with someone.

"Straight to the point, eh? What happened to hellos and how are yous?"

Y/n gave him an unimpressed look, and he sighed. "i... I'm here to beg for forgiveness. I'm sorry."

That made Y/n roll her eyes and she straightened from where she was leaing against the counter behind her and made to turn away.

But suddenly a muffled thud sounded, and Y/n whipped her head towards where Rhys had fallen to his knees, his eyes wide and pleading, filled with tears. Her eyes widened, unchecked shock coursing through her.

She knew he would never go to his knees for anyone or anything other than his court, knew how much significance the tattoos on his knees held.

He lifted his hands in front of his face, shaking so badly that Y/n had the urge to hold them and never let go.

"What are you doing?" She asked, holding her heart on a leash.

The tears began streaming down his cheeks and his lip wobbled, staring up at her as he opened his mouth to speak. "Please forgive me. Please. I havent been able to slep or eat or do anything since we met that day. I cant think of anything except you and Finnian. please Y/n, forgive me. please."

"Rhys... we talked about this. You can't just waltz back into my life as you see fit. Where were you when i needed you? Where were you when Fin needed you? Why are you back now? It can't be because Fin is your- your son. You already have another one."

Rhys opened his mouth, but a sob escaped instead of words.

And Y/n's heart shattered right alongside the broken voice in which he spoke next. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I need you Y/n, I need you back."

Y/n dropped to her knees too, settling back on her heels as she stared at him, horrified. "What?"

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. "I still love you. I never stopped."

Y/n laughed without humour. "And what about Feyre? Huh? Is she disposable to you? Are all females disposable to you, oh mighty high lord?"

Rhysand winced. "Y/n please."

And then the leash on Y/n's anger snapped, and she snarled at rhys. "Please what rhys? Please what? Come back to you, even though you are mated, married and a father?"

"Yes!" Rhys snapped back at her, leaving her stunned. She was more shocked of the answer than his tone.

She blinked slowly, a tear slipping out of her eyes as she stared at Rhys's panting form, his eyes furious. "Yes, I fucking want you to come back to me. I am ready to leave everyone and everything behind to give my life, my time, my everything to you."

"You are telling me to destroy another female's, another child's life just so I could have you?" Her voice was no longer loud. It was soft as a feeling of resignation spread through her.

Nodding, he crawled forward, towards Y/n, making her scoot back until her back was against the wall.

"Rhys..." She whispered, trying to get his attention for long enough to tell him to get lost, but his eyes that had been staring into hers were now fixated on her lips. She pulled her knees to her chest as she monitored his every movement, her heart beating in her throat.

"Rhys." This time he met her gaze, and she was shocked to find hunger in that violet gaze.

He prowled closer on all fours, simply staring at Y/n the whole while.

When he was practically on top of her, he leaned forward, one of his hands rising to cup her cheek. "Y/n..."

"No..." She muttered on an exhale, but she couldn't do anything to stop him. It was as if someone had gotten into her mind and was forcing her to stay still.

But no matter how much she protested, she still wanted him. Wanted him to kiss her, to hold her, to be with her and to be hers. Only hers. She didn't want to share him with any human turned fae filth.

No. No. No. This is not what I think. What is going on?!

His face was inches from hers, his eyes searching her eyes as his face lowered, only a few inches between them. A hairsbreadth between them. And then finally, finally-

A loud knock on the door jolted Y/n, making her flinch. It was like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped onto her head, making her realise she was about to let Rhys back in.

Rhys growled, deep and low as his head swung towards the door. But then he froze, his head turning back towards her, slowly, his feral eyes meeting hers. Betrayal swirled in them, and something like guilt climbed up Y/n's throat.

He had smelled who was out there, and he was not happy. "What is he–"

She didn't give him a chance to finish, pushing him away with her hand on his chest as she climbed to her feet from her position on the floor and stalking towards the door. He made a sound of frustration behind her, and it prompted her to open the door quicker.

Eris smiled at her as soon as the door was open, Fin asleep in his arms, one of his hands holding a number of bags Y/n didn't bother to count.

She swallowed as he made to step inside. She hesitantly stepped aside as he began speaking. "We would have been out for longer, but then Fin was getting tired, and he also fell and scraped his knee. As soon as I picked him up, he fell asleep."

Eris shook his head, a soft smile on his face.

But then he stilled, his head twisting to look at where Rhys was now standing, glaring daggers at him.

If looks could kill, both the males would be dead, because both of them stared at each other like their mother was killed with a stick, and neither of them backed down.

"What are you doing with my son?" Rhys spoke in a deadly voice, prowling up to Eris like the predator he was.

Eris, to his credit, didn't waver. "Something you are not doing for your son."

Rhys snarled, lunging across the space between him and Eris, his hands outstretched towards Fin's sleeping form.

In a moment of panic, she threw herself in front of Rhys, and he jerked to a stop, his eyes blazing.

"Get away from him Y/n." Rhys snarled.

Y/n shook her head. She turned, meeting Eris's eyes, silently pleading.

Eris's own eyes were filled with deadly intent, but he quietly handed Fin over to his mother.

Y/n walked away from the two fuming males, not wanting anything to do with their bullshit. She knew both of them were pissed and not in their right minds.

But when were males in their right minds?

She gently set Fin on his bed, trying her best not to jostle him. And then she walked out, closing the door behind her. If the two males out there decided they were going to be having a screaming match, she would rather not have her son hear it.

When she walked out, she found the two of them still glaring at each other, but now there was a little more space between them.

As soon as they felt her, they whipped their heads to look at her. She could feel both their eyes following her every movement as she went and stood near Eris. Not near enough to touch, but enough to make a point.

That she trusted Eris more than her former lover.

Rhysand looked like he was about to go on a murder spree, but before he could do that, Y/n spoke.

"Leave."

Rhys laughed, begining to stalk forward. "no."

When he was close, he reached out his hand to her fsce, as if he was going to grab her.

But his touch never came.

Baceuse Eris had pushed his hand between the two of them and was having an intense staring match with rhys.

"She told you to leave."

"And I said no." Rhys muttered, eyeing the hand in front of Y/n.

"She. Told you. To leave. You don't want me to repeat myself."

Rhys lifted his eyes to Eris, then to Y/n. She looked away, her hand instinctively reaching towards Eris.

She realised it a little late. She was trying to shield herself from Rhys.

Rhys laughed again, a deranged sound.

"You will regret this Eris Vanserra. I will make you regret it." Then, in a voice that would have made greater men piss themselves, he mumbled. "I banish you from the night court. Leave while you still can. You have till sunset to leave, and if after that you still haven't left, I will hunt you down like the animal that you are and bathe in your fucking blood."

And then, Rhys simply stalked up to the door, nearly ripped it from its hinges, and walked out.

Eris then turned to Y/n and silently pulled her into his arms.

She let him.

And she let down walls keeping her emotions in check.

She clutched his shirt in her fingers as if she'd die if she ever let go, and cried and cried and cried until she couldn't anymore.

And before long, she heard the whispered words in her ear.

"Come with me to autumn court. Let me take care of you."

•○🌑○•

Part 6

Taglist: @awoa1 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @luvmoo @we-were-beautiful @eerievixen @zoe2 @fussel9913 @j-pendragonx @thesnugglingduck @jesssicapaniagua @devilsnightz @esposadomd @littleffawn @mandowhatnow @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @princesslolaasworld @asemkta @cat-or-kitten @txzii @bunnyredgirl @theofficialmadman @leeknows-wife @aria-chikage @amygdtjhddzvb @azriels-mate123 @inky-clover @kemillyfreitas @12358 @justdreamstars @cuethedepession @princessvesta

[thegainingdesk]

The Grommr Profile of Dorian Grey

Dorian finished the last chicken wing, delicately wiping his hands with a napkin, before dabbing at the sides of his mouth. “And one hundred!” He beamed at the camera, and rubbed his middle, not-so-subtly lifting his t-shirt to reveal taut, flat six-pack abs. “Guess that will sort me until dinner,” he said with a wink to his audience.

He looked at the comments on his livestream. Most were in awe, as usual, at how much he could eat while maintaining his stick-thin figure and classically handsome good looks. Others, frustratingly, accused him of being a fake - of using some contraption or camera trickery to make the food disappear, of editing in CGI food, of bullimia. He'd done live shows, week-long streams, streams in nothing but his boxers, but nothing would ever convince some of his viewers.

One in particular caught his attention: lol, why are you all commenting like he'll respond? everyone knows he films these over like a week and then edits it together after

Dorian gritted his teeth. “Actually, user WelcomeToMyFistedMind, comment at fifteen thirty-two and eighteen seconds, this is very much live. And actually, I don't think I am done quite yet.” He stood and walked to the kitchen, coming back with a box of two dozen donuts he'd bought for tomorrow's stream. He sat back down and pushed the first one into his mouth, grinning around the custard that oozed out.

Forty-five minutes and twenty-four donuts later, Dorian flashed one last smug grin at the camera and closed twitch. He leant back, lifted up his t-shirt and ran his fingers lazily up and down his treasure-trail, following the center line between his abdominals. Despite the literal pounds of food he'd eaten in the last couple of hours, his stomach was as flat as ever, his twinkish frame showing none of the effects of the food he ate day in, day out.

His channel, MukbangBangYoureDead, had exploded in viewers ever since he started it a few years ago, until he was now one of the most famous mukbangers on the internet. He could not only eat more than all of his competitors, he made it look easy, and all without gaining a pound.

Of course, he had something that they didn't - the deal. He'd been hesitant at first, didn't believe the strange visitor that had come to him one night could or would deliver on its promises. But here he was, years later, making tens of thousands of pounds a month, all without consequence.

Thinking about the deal, he opened Grommr on his phone and brought up his profile. He whistled as he saw the updated weight - 576 pounds. He'd been flirting with 570 for a while now, and was pleased to see how far he'd stepped over that threshold. Time, he thought, for an update for his loyal fans on that platform too.

He pulled his trousers off and threw them to the side, leaving his t-shirt on. He walked to the mirror and admired his toned, pencil-like legs, his lightly muscled arms, the way his t-shirt draped from broad shoulders and tight pecs over his narrow waist, and his large bulge constrained by a designer jock-strap in bright yellow. He raised his phone up and took a picture, and proceeded to take his shirt off. He raised one hand to a lightly-haired pec and gave it a squeeze as he took a second picture. Finally, he lay down on his bed, snaked some long-slender fingers into his waistband, and raised his phone to take another photo from above.

He uploaded the pictures to Grommr without even looking at them - he knew there'd be no point, that they'd look completely different in just a moment or two. They appeared one by one as they uploaded.

Each showed a behemoth of a man. In the first the man stood in a mirror, wearing a t-shirt that cut into fat hanging from his sides and strained to cover large, pendulous breasts. His gut hung out and down, covering his genitals - a small pop of yellow beneath his love handles was the only hint that he was wearing any underwear. The man's face was huge and round, his features almost amorphous. Small, piggy eyes sat above bulbous cheeks, which merged into a ring of fat around his head, his chin a mere dimple in the fat around his neck. Even in the still image, it was clear that the man's arm was straining against its own weight to hold the phone up.

The next photo was much the same. The same morbidly obese figure stood in the same mirror. This time, the pitifully small t-shirt had been discarded to reveal cascading flesh hanging to the side, lying on the mountainous belly. One hand grasped one of the tits, bloated fingers digging into the soft flesh.

In the next, the figure was laid prone. Gravity had pulled down on the soft flesh and caused it to drop down and pool around the figure. The moobs lifted up towards the man's non-existant neck and chin, his gut spread out, his face expanded in all directions. New rolls and folds had formed - where arm met shoulder, where joints bent, or where his gut bunched up against itself. In the brighter lighting, painfully red stretch marks bloomed across the man's skin, circling his thighs, his love handles like loaves, across his dropping breasts. The man's left hand struggled to reach around his gut to grasp at the waistband of a straining jock strap, within which a small bump suggested some long-forgotten nub of a cock, sunk deep within the fat that spilled out around the underwear’s pouch. The man’s face was red, and seemed to strain as he struggled to maneuver his own flesh.

Dorian watched on in boredom as the first few comments rolled in. The usual adoring fans, begging to know the secrets to his titanic weight, proclaiming they’d soon look the same, asking to meet up. He would wait until a few of his regulars sent their customary tips, then go on with the rest of his day. In the meantime, a couple of the comments caused a smile to spread across his angular face.

MayContainDonuts: MealWithTheDevil looking great as ever! I don't know what it is, but he always looks so much like that one mukbang guy? Obviously fatter, but just the eyes and nose and stuff? I wonder if they're related?

BloatGoat: Do you mean MukbangBangYoureDead? If you can find some of his old photos the resemblance is uncanny. People used to think they were the same person but obviously not. Definitely could be related!

Dorian smirked and went to close the app, stopping only to check a small notification that popped up at the top of his screen. There would be routine server maintenance the next day, and the site would be down for around eight hours, starting mid-morning for the UK.

Dorian sighed. He hated server shutdowns, and this would be the longest he'd experienced yet. Still, he had a while to prepare. He'd have to cancel some lunch plans, but he could make up some lie about being ill. He got dressed, stood up and left to go buy enough food for tomorrow.

Dorian paced around his flat nervously the next morning. He checked his watch - 10:01. He quickly tried to bring up Grommr - sure enough, he was met with an error message about the server being down. It would start soon enough.

The first sign of it was his t-shirt. Previously loose, after about five minutes he found he was having to fuss with it to get it to sit right. another five minutes and it had begun riding up around puffy lovehandles and a firm paunch, while his sweatpants were starting to slip down an expanding rear. Another ten minutes and he took the t-shirt off, freeing a large beer gut that bounced when he walked. His sweatpants had grown almost skin tight around hefty thighs and would soon be too tight for comfort. He knew that this was only the start.

The hunger started then; sickly, stabbing pains in his newly expanded gut. He put two pizzas in the oven and sat with a donuts while he waited, knowing that soon his body, and his appetite along with it, would soon be able to accommodate all the food.

Just under thirty minutes in, Dorian's gut started to rest on his lap when he sat. He leant back, the swollen sack of fat at his middle dragging along his lap as he did so, and his cock began to harden. He reached a hand up to scratch the pink stretch marks beginning to form below his budding moobs.

While stuffed to the point of breathlessness just five minutes before, his stomach was still expanding, and he could feel the gnawing hunger begin to creep back in. He belched and stood, tottering slightly at the near-total shift in center of gravity since he’d sat down. He peeled off his sweatpants, struggling past his wide arse and flabby thighs, then gathered as much food as he could in his arms, using the top of his gut as a shelf and cautiously made his way back to his sofa, where he collapsed down, put on a trashy movie, and continued to eat.

Dorian continued to grow as his pile of junk food diminished. He savoured the feeling of soft, supple skin sliding past skin as he swelled - his growing tits pouring out onto his behemoth gut, his underbelly coursing forwards across rotund thighs dimpled with cellulite, his fat pad oozing around his perpetually hard dick. He knew to wait though; the bigger he was, the hotter his eventual orgasm would be.

Dorian looked down and surveyed himself. His body was beginning to be defined by rolls upons rolls. He estimated himself to be around the size he reached last time there was some server downtime; his profile had put on at least a hundred pounds since then. He lifted a heavy arm and used a hand to probe his plush flesh, sighing at the way his newly chubby fingers sank into the fat.

Still, the hunger increased. Dorian tried to lean forward to grab his phone, but found his own sheer bulk resisted him, pushing him back. He spread his legs and allowed his gut to fall down between them, the shift pulling his body forward in his seat and causing a dull ache in his lower back. He picked up his phone and with clumsy sausage-like fingers brought up a delivery app. He allowed instinct and hunger to take over - spring rolls, beef, chilli beef, sweet and sour chicken, duck pancakes, chilli chips, everything he saw he was ravenous for. He'd not been this big before and the hunger was deep. He pressed order, only briefly worrying about how he'd answer the door when he had no clothes that could hope to fit him.

Dorian’s body continued to expand. There was an alienness to his new size; his thighs had to splay around his hanging gut, his arms sat uncomfortably on top of thick pillows of fat at his sides, each joint filled with lard, and most of all was the awareness of gravity, how it pulled at his body and how his body answered in kind by dropping down and down.

Half an hour of nagging hunger later, his doorbell rang. He threw himself forward, but fell back to the sofa. Even that unsuccessful effort left him winded. He rolled to the side, fat cascading over fat as he did so, and staggered to stand sideways, his arms shaking as he heaved with all his might against the sofa. He grabbed a blanket and draped it over him; it barely covered his torso, but it was the best he could do.

How had he never realised how easy walking was before? Now, every step needed to be purposeful and required a conscious effort to propel his weight forwards. He had to wheel each thigh out and around past the other, each one a lead weight to be lifted. Dorian reached the door panting and sweaty, his hips burning with the beginnings of pain. The delivery driver looked on in shock, and then in slow horror. Dorian didn't care, he just grabbed his bags and slammed the door, before making his slow way back to his seat.

As he fell back, the sofa made a loud crunching sound and he felt himself sink deep into the cushions. He shuffled over the other side as best he could, each movement sending shockwaves across his body. He piled his bags into the crater left on the other side of the sofa and ate directly out of them, the table now wholly unreachable.

Dorian suspected he stopped growing around the time that he'd finished his food. If nothing else, the hunger had stopped. His torso had become a series of rolls, each one wrapped around his entire body and piled on top of the next. His limbs had become huge sacks of flesh, spreading out beneath him, the only evidence of his joints small, soft dimples in the thick casing of his body.

Dorian knew he'd waited long enough now. He pushed a stubby paw into the deep fold underneath his gut, reaching for the hard nub of his cock not yet swallowed by his fat pad. It was no use however, the heavy weight of his belly pressing down and closing off his own groin from himself. He leant to the side and spread his thighs, freeing up access and shifting his weight off from his lap, but still his fingers had to squirm past sweaty flesh into the small crevice left of his crotch. He grasped at the hard head of his cock, finding it in a shallow depression of flab nestled in dense pubes. With two fingers he did his best to jerk himself off, but to no avail - there was simply not enough cock left and not enough space to handle it in. Desperate for release he began to thrust, rocking his pelvis back and forth, so that the thick shaft of his penis slid within his own blubber, fucking his own body. He closed his eyes and ignored the tortured groans of the sofa below him as his pleasure grew. It only took a few minutes for him to cum, semen coating his fat pad and thighs as he yelled out.

Dorian slumped back, gasping for air, and exhausted, drifted off into a sleep.

When he woke up, it was dark. He could still feel the weight of his body pulling down. This wasn't right. As slow as it took for the weight to pile on, usually it melted away in seconds once the servers were back online, which should have happened hours ago. He checked the time - 23:24. Had something gone wrong?

He checked Grommr - the site was back up. He tried to log in - nothing. App - no. Browser - no. He tried to type his password in again, fat fingers mashing against the keyboard so that he had to try again slowly, deliberately. Nothing worked. He felt his heart pounding somewhere beneath his bosom.

Finally, he noticed an email in his inbox.

Grommr admin team - lost profile

During our recent scheduled server update, a small number of user profiles were unfortunately lost. We are sorry to tell you that your profile was one of those that we have not been able to recover. We are doing everything we can to recover lost profiles, but we are sadly not…

Dorian stopped reading. He looked down at the acres of flesh that were now his body. He lifted an arm up and let it fall, watching it shake and wobble in the dim light. What would he tell his family? His friends? His fans? This couldn't be happening.

Through his panicked breathing and heavy heartbeat, another feeling began to grow - Dorian Grey was beginning to feel hungry.

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-Four

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors note: I’m here:) finally. It’s been a while, idk how long, not that long but long enough i guess, sorry for the wait! This one is wordy but also has a lot going on, so hope you enjoy!

Ngl, this can probably be read as a standalone if anyone’s seeing this and not started the series, it’s just a bit angsty and mostly smut? But unsure, I said probably! X

Warnings: Arguing, usual Matty and Mouse thinking (feels like it needs its own warning at this point, they’re saddos), smut, unprotected sex, EMOTIONS (because yeah)

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

There was something raw in the bitterness that was love. Like the sour skin of an apple that was first thought to be sweet. Love was deceiving in itself really, but it was never alone. It brought life and light. It wrought anger. It stirred both jealousy and pity. It gave and gave, until all you were left with was that tart tang aftertaste. 

Some people revelled in it.

Others, withered away.

Years before, perhaps maybe not even that long ago now, Matty would have belonged to the former. He had enjoyed the strings he found that could tie him to people, sex and money had given him the ability to do it, to keep them there, to pull them alongside him. And he’d indulged in it all, beyond what most would consider extortionate. 

And still, even after everything, when the fun had ended and the games had been discarded, and he’d just been tossed off somewhere to the side… Alone once more. He had continued on. On and on and on, until he ultimately had lost himself completely.

The last few months had shifted something in him though.

And now here he was, still angry and bitter and resentful. But full of actual love. The raw type. The kind that left you marvelling at the most stupid things— insipid little concepts that held no actual value or any real detail worth getting all starry-eyed over.

It had wormed its way into the hollow shell that was his heart and rebuilt some part of him that he believed he had long since destroyed.

He wanted to scoff at the very thought. The very idea that an emotion could be felt so strongly that it differed the world around you; that, singularly, it could change you. The notion was far too complex, too out there to even begin to fathom, but then again, Matty supposed that emotions were exactly that. Complex.

It sent his mind reeling. Had his entire body aching with a fever to expel the feeling completely, if only so that he could think freely again, so it wouldn’t hurt to merely breathe anymore.

You should have told me.

He knew that. He had admitted as much.

And yet, he still hadn’t told her.

He’d lied.

Why didn’t you tell me?

And that was the question, wasn’t it? Why hadn’t he just told her?

Fear, he guessed.

Yet another morbid emotion in which Matty had always been so wary of. Another lost feeling he thought he’d swallowed whole and hidden somewhere deep down. Because there was no fear in a drug induced haze. When you were off partying or chasing some other euphoric high. What the fuck was there to be fearful of? When the chilling buzz which shook you to your very core blanketed over everything else.

When there was always that silence.

That numb quiet he had chased and craved and cherished.

Though, he supposed, it was nothing compared to the fear of losing this.

Of losing her.

Still, Matty could not for the life of him find it in himself to tell her exactly that. Those words lost on him, lodged in the column of his throat and etching themselves a home there.

“Where do we go from here?”

He blinked at the sound of his own voice, looking up at her shadowed expression and at how tired she then seemed. How different she now looked compared to the moment they’d first met. 

She’d been something of a presence even then. Always effortlessly complex. With her soft smile and guarded eyes. Eyes he’d gone and fucking wondered about for hours on end.

Those eyes which were now caught on the far wall stood opposite, the one lined with coloured photo frames and that odd little doodle Teddy had gotten in trouble for only a couple of weeks prior. 

The realisation made Matty mourn the few days they’d spent apart.

After a long moment, she finally shrugged at him and he found himself swallowing tightly at the movement. Startled by her seeming lack of care. 

“I don’t want to lose you, Squeaks.” 

It was honest. As honest as he could be.

She huffed an amused breath in return though, “Not like you’re short on company, Matty.”

He felt his gaze snap up to meet hers then, head shifting with it. 

“What’s that even meant to mean?” He asked her, frowning now, at the way she had crossed her arms over her chest and how her shoulders had hunched on their own accord whilst she casually moved to glance out the window. Matty forced himself up onto his feet, hating the fact she had turned away from him.

“I saw everything, Matty.” Mouse replied tiredly, as though she was fed up, fed up with this, with them. “I saw the articles.”

Matty’s stomach bottomed out at her words, he stepped towards her. “Nothing happened.” He murmured, taking another step closer. “Nothing fucking happened, Squeaks. I swear it.”

She tensed but didn’t quite flinch at his sudden approach, so he kept a little distance between them, even as desperate as he was to hold her. To shake her enough so that she would see sense, that she’d realise how stupid he would have had to have been to have gone near anyone else. That girl was no one, she’d meant nothing. 

“You can swear that, can you?” She mocked him, one corner of her mouth toying with a merciless smile that didn’t quite suit her. “You were gone, Matty. Fucking out of it. That much was clear to see just from the photos alone.”

Matty stared at her helplessly.

She shook her head.

“I’d had a couple drinks. That isn’t a crime!” He stressed, automatically falling onto the defensive, “Didn’t mean I was stupid enough to get with the first person I fucking saw! That girl- she was off her head too. Had mates with her even! But she was just trying to help me, Mouse. That’s all it was.” 

She was shaking her head again now, tongue catching on her incisor; a dead giveaway to how stressed she was, how anxious she was getting. Matty only wished to shoulder it all, that defensiveness of his faltering slightly at the sight of her trying to hide it all. To stay strong. How fucking long had she had to do that?

“I feel like such a fool, Matty.” She finally spoke, her voice trembling with the onslaught of tears that glazed her eyes but she didn’t dare let fall. “A fucking fool. ‘Cause I’d thought that things were okay, that we were okay. That I could finally relax and let you in. But then-“ She paused, a sad huff leaving her, “Then you went and dropped this mess in my lap and somehow expected me to just deal with it. To tell you it’s all fine. That we could make it right.”

Mouse turned then, ever so slowly, looking about as defeated as Matty had ever seen her. He felt his chest burn with the last breath he hadn’t remembered taking let alone hold onto, too afraid to look away, to even move. 

“But you embarrassed me. You’ve made the whole world believe I am that fool. That I was as naive as they’d first made me out to be. As my friends thought me to be.” 

Her smile was shattered and broken, her voice wet and hoarse, but she continued on even as her hands fell limply to her sides and she took a single step closer.

“And to make things worse, you didn’t just hurt me, Matty. You hurt Teddy too.”

–

Hit them where it hurts.

That was the saying, wasn’t it?

But it only left me feeling all the more sour- gutless. As well as a little stupid, I supposed, wondering if Matty even cared for Teddy at all, or how he had felt the last couple days.

Though I shouldn’t have second guessed it, not when the way Matty’s face immediately paled and then fell proved me wrong. 

Deep down, I knew that he cared. In his own odd way he had always cared. But to know it and to see it were two entirely different things.

And although it was true, that Matty had in fact hurt Teddy. It still felt like a shitty thing to say to him then. But he’d hurt me as well, hadn’t he. And even though I’d been hurting most of my life, Matty being the reason for all that hurt pained me in a way I couldn’t even comprehend. 

“I didn’t-”

I scoffed at his attempted reply, but my heart wasn’t in it, breaking all over again. I wondered how long we could drag this out. If we even would.

“Mean to?” I finished for him, shaking my head stupidly. “I know you didn’t mean to, Matty. Doesn’t change the fact that you still did it.”

His eyes slipped closed just as his lips fell apart, and when he opened them again I was stuck staring into his devastated gaze. 

“If I could take it all back, I would.” He breathed, “I promise you I would.”

I swallowed back my own tears, even as they burned and pricked at my throat and eyes. “But you can’t.”

And it was as simple as that, wasn’t it? He couldn’t ever take it back. 

I don’t want to lose you.

He knew just how to get under my skin, past all that rusted armour of mine.

It was what made this all so much harder. 

“Tell me what to do, Squeaks.” Matty croaked pleadingly, hand reaching out towards me before he looked down at it, blinked, and then let it fall. “I’ll do it, just– tell me.”

What was left that he could do? When it felt like things had so suddenly and so horrifically fallen out from under us.

“I don't know.” I told him honestly, in a barely there whisper, “I just don't know, Matty.”

He stepped even closer then, hand moving to capture my jaw in a determined haste, not restraining himself like he had just moments before. I tried to pull away, titling my chin and looking off to the side as I clenched my teeth, but his thumb was there, luring me back in, forcing me to meet his eye.

“I’m not just gonna give up.” His other hand jumped to cradle my face, a cushion to those heated words. 

I was reluctant in my needless wanting, desperate to be held whilst simultaneously wanting to push him away. So I lifted my hands up to cover his own, unsure of the choice they’d make. To stay, or go.

“It’s not about that, Matty.” I heard myself say pathetically, voice wavering with each word, “You can’t just forget this.”

His dark eyes were trained on me, flickering over every square inch of my scarred face. I’d never felt insecure about them when I was around him, but this moment felt too heated, too high strung. And I’d been burning the candle at both ends the last few days, so with him being this close, this intense, every emotion I’d felt was brimming closer and closer to the surface. 

Instead of facing him, I turned away, hiding once more as I worked my jaw and felt my hands slip down to the backs of his forearms.

A shared breath and then,

“Don’t do that.” Matty whispered in the quiet, almost begging. “Don’t hide from me.”

His thumb smoothed over the skin of my cheek and I was all but putty in hands, looking back at him just as a tear escaped me and slid to meet the pad of it. 

Matty brushed the tear away without thought, before he leant in to rest his forehead against my own. The action forced me to cling tighter to his arms, eyes closing to keep from embarrassing myself any further. I wouldn’t cry. 

I wouldn’t cry.

“Look at me.” He demanded, nose so close that I could practically sense its phantom touch. And foolishly, I did as he asked. “You-” His breath stuttered as his eyes pleaded with me, sounding forced as it broke free from him, his fingers making a home for themselves in my hair. 

“You don’t know what you do to me. How much of a mess I’ve made of myself. How much I have missed you.” Matty confessed, his voice quiet in the small space shared between us, in a place where we were both sheltered and unseen. “And I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry. Enough that I’ll keep on repeating it until you fucking believe me. Enough that I’d do just about anything for you to see how much I want this.”

He sucked in a breath, and I blinked back at him, lips tingling with the sensation of his proximity. 

“I know I messed up. I know.” He repeated, eyes flickering back and forth between my own whilst his thumbs trailed the line of my hair. “But all I’m asking for is a chance to make it right. To be better. Squeaks, I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat if I could.”

His breath was tickling the skin of my cheek as well as the corner of my mouth, it almost made it difficult to think let alone remember how to breathe. I wanted–

Suddenly my eyes were looking down, focused on his parted mouth, on the stubble he’d let grow across the cut of his chin as well as his upper lip. His nose finally brushed past my own, touching ever so carefully as one or both of us pressed nearer, almost there, inching closer but not close enough.

“Tell me no.” 

Instantly, I was thrown back to that first night he kissed me. I hadn’t told him no then, and for some reason I couldn’t find it in me to decline him now. 

So instead I took, all but biting as my hand cradled the back of his neck and closed that short amount of distance between us. My nails dug into the exposed skin of his nape, where the collar of his shirt jumped with each move he made. My teeth nipped at his lower lip, angry in my attempt to swallow him whole, teeth clashing as we both stumbled, moving and moving until Matty’s back hit the nearest wall.

How the roles had reversed, I thought to myself as Matty’s shoulders flexed beneath his shirt and jumped under my ever roaming hands. I hated the desire that it stirred through me, knowing how easily he could take back control with his carefully contained strength. But he didn’t, instead he gave my fury something to latch onto.

My hand lifted to pin one of his wrists somewhere to the left of his head, glare not wavering even as his stubborn gaze met my own. He was as riled up as me.

“You have some nerve.” I all but spat, watching on as his chest rose and fell, questioning how quickly everything had switched.

“Yeah?” Matty bit back, those familiar brown eyes- a colour that had always brought me comfort- were blazing now as they trailed over the flush that I was sure lined my face. “Why’s that? You’re the one with me pinned, darlin’.” 

His heavy gaze traced the bow of my lip, slumping ever slightly in his stance so that his head could fall closer forward. My breath hitched.

That was all he needed apparently, to earn the upper hand here. Because in a moment, the room was spinning and then I was the one being crowded against the wall, fury be damned.

Contrary to my previous endeavour, Matty’s touch was still as careful as ever, making it that much more obvious that I could slip away if I so wanted. But the question was whether or not I did.

“Matty–”

But he just carried on, as though he hadn’t even heard me speak, voice a low breathy murmur. 

“I’ve been stuck in this endless loop. Driving myself mad.” He told me, his knee angled enough so that he could let his head dip towards the juncture of my neck, his mouth pausing by the shell of my ear whilst a finger gently trailed its way up over my hip. “Wonderin’ if I’d lost this for good.”

My heart pounded in my chest as the ghost of his words tickled my skin, tensing when his nose ever so slightly grazed my jaw. 

That finger of his continued to move, working its way up my torso, jumping across my ribs and up to the bone of my collar. My gaze was fixed on the opposing wall, on the mirror that framed my dazed face and the back of his head. My hand worked its way into his unruly curls.

“But you’re as stubborn as me, see.” Matty added, luring me in, “And I’m not the type to give up on a sure thing.” His words held enough bite that I snapped back to meet his stare, he tilted his head at me whilst I scowled.

“Excuse me?”

Matty smiled, lids heavy as his careful hand danced its way back down my front. 

“And this,” He said, almost in a whisper, ignoring my retort as he hooked my leg around his waist, “This is a sure thing.”

A soft breath escaped me even as I batted his hand away, but he simply reached up to grip at my chin, touch tender even with the way his calloused thumb dragged down my lower lip.

I was slowly beginning to imagine that this was all a dream, something my sick mind had gone and conjured up in hopes to ignore all of the hurt he had put me through. Because this couldn’t be right, things couldn’t have fallen back into place this easily. 

“Matty.” I tried again, firmer this time, but was captured by the look his eyes held, probably having understood the expression that must have just crossed my face.

“What did you do, Squeaks?” He asked me almost hurriedly, shaking my chin between his forefinger and thumb, my previous anger and doubt melting slightly as I leaned further into his touch. “Did you want me to hurt, too?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question, his swift change in topic. Baffled by the fact that he was now trying to pin this back on me. 

Was that really what this was? I wanted to ask.

Matty didn’t give me the opportunity to say a thing though. My surprise had stalled me briefly, but it had evidently been long enough to allow him to simply carry on.

“What did you do, eh? Tell me.” He breathed before he pressed his mouth to my jaw, once and then twice, pulling away just as I tilted my head to accommodate him, “Did you go out, baby? Find somebody else? Or did you just stay here, waiting for me?”

I reeled back, anger spiking again. “Fuck you.”

Matty’s eyes flickered back and forth between mine. 

“I’m trying to get you to.” He said, always so brazen and snarky, even in the moments where I hated him most. The hand I had previously slapped away went back to the leg he still had draped over his hip, snaking up over my knee and to my thigh. 

My glare didn’t waiver, even as my breathing picked up at the pressure his fingertips wrought on my skin. 

“Tell me no.” He finally repeated, eyes failing to meet mine. And how was I supposed to? When having him this close brought back that fire he’d put out in me, when he was kissing my neck so sweetly?

“We’ll regret it.” It was as close to a no as I could get, enough to have him pause. Matty looked to me then, his hold loosening on my body but still holding. Hoping.

“Do you care?”

I marvelled at the question, did I care?

I cared so much it pained me.

But he hadn’t meant it like that. That much I knew.

Do you care if you regret it? Because, what if you don’t? 

With Matty there was always chance– he was the type to play the odds, to push his luck.

What if.

What if, what if, what if?

Shaking my head, I was forced to question if he understood me as much as I did him. If he could see each of my thoughts just as they dawned on me, flashing across my face like a story being told. 

Then I wondered whether or not I even wanted him to understand. This, this thing we were doing would only further complicate things between us, but perhaps this could be a goodbye.

But, if this was a goodbye, why was he looking at me like that? Watching and waiting for me to truly answer.

Tell me no, he’d said.

Matty’s gaze swept over my face, as though trying to read me, maybe in hopes to find what it was he was really searching for. 

Tell me no.

“Please.”

And my resolve broke at the word.

“Okay.” I heard myself say in reply, nodding quickly, and that was seemingly all the permission he needed before Matty was wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me towards him fully.

My hands floundered momentarily before they were back on his shoulders, his teeth nipping at my neck. 

I moaned, eyes falling shut as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses down my skin, teeth scraping before his tongue swirled to soothe their angry ambush. I could smell him everywhere now, the shampoo I was so used to stealing, as well as the only aftershave he’d ever claimed to like.

His hips rolled into mine, pressing himself right against the fabric of my trousers and the underwear which had grown damp during our heated argument. 

I didn’t want to linger too long on the thought of my body’s obvious betrayal, too caught up in him to think about how wrong this should all feel.

“Shit.” Matty groaned, breath catching with it as he continued to grind against me.

I gasped back, grabbing at him harder as he bit down on the curve of my neck. I nipped at his jaw in retaliation, nails digging into the skin of his back, hoping to leave a mark.

“I knew you’d miss me.” He grunted into the base of my throat, the hands which held my waist dipping beneath the hem of my shirt to explore further. “Even when you’re angry you’ll wait. ‘Cause no one else can touch like me.”

A whine bypassed my lips almost involuntarily as he continued to rut against me, I wanted to be angry- no, in fact, I was angry. But all emotion other than want was blurring at the edges of my mind now, being pushed further and further back by each eager kiss he peppered along my jaw.

“You really–” I jerked in surprise, cutting myself off with a short gasp when his hand slipped past the hem of my trousers, fingers pressing against the damp fabric he found there. 

“What was that?” He provoked, and I could hear the smirk in his voice as he trailed over my covered clit, causing me to whimper before I was biting down on my lower lip. Matty didn’t like that much. “Come on, I wanna hear you.” He muttered, pressing a little harder, wanting a reaction. “Tell me.”

“You’re such a bastard.” I panted, head falling against his shoulder as my hips pushed further into his touch, seeking more.

Matty laughed, all breathy and lovely, mouth catching on the lobe of my ear before he hissed, “Yeah, but you like that about me.”

His hand was gone with that and I was almost tempted to ask, to even plead with him for its return, aching all the more now, enough that all I could think about was riding his fingers until I couldn’t think at all. 

But then Matty was grabbing my waist again, his grip hard, firm, and I swallowed when he whispered into my ear once more.

“Jump.”

Without thinking, I jumped. 

We collided, his mouth on mine and the two of us moving as though it was second nature. And in a way, it was. But it shouldn’t have been. I knew that. I tried to remind myself of it. 

He shouldn’t be here.

But he was. Walking his way through my flat with ease, effortlessly missing each sharp corner and the miniscule step which led back into the hallway. He was blind, my hands in his hair as he manoeuvred us into my bedroom, throwing me down onto sheets that he’d never seen, let alone slept in. 

I tugged him down with me, his hands moving to unbutton those fucking jeans he always wore as he worked his way back into my mouth. 

He hovered over me after kicking them off, my head pressed to the pillows as his eyes roamed every inch of my face. “Beautiful.” He whispered, as though he hadn’t really meant to say the word aloud.

My breath hitched anyway but Matty paid it no mind, leaning in closer to kiss me again, slower this time around, though his hands were still quick, tugging at the hem of my top enough so that I got the hint. I lifted myself up, breaking away to take it off and toss it to the side. 

Matty kissed his way down my neck again, following the trail of scars down my torso until his fingers paused to hook around the top of my trousers. I nodded at his silent ask, planting my feet a little firmer on the mattress so that they could follow my tee.

Matty stopped then, kneeling between my parted thighs, eyes caught on the panties I was wearing, and I could swear something in his gaze shifted as he stared down at me. 

“Lace?” He murmured, fingers curling around my thighs tight enough to bruise as he pushed forward, closer to my face. “Really?”

It was a loaded question. Almost felt like an accusation.

I shrugged– I hadn’t meant to end up here, but it hadn’t been subconscious when I’d picked them out of the pile this morning. He liked the way they looked, had told me so one night spent at his when he’d talked me into smoking a couple joints with him sprawled out on his living room floor. 

I opened my mouth to reply but Matty didn’t quite catch the motion, already busying himself with the task of pulling the lace down my thighs. His fingers, calloused from years of playing guitar, dragged alongside the black material rolling down my legs. I tensed at the feeling, zeroing in on the slow motion, then listened to him groan at the sight before they were gone completely.

I watched him pull away, balling the damp fabric up in a fist before leaning over the side of the bed to drop them on top of his jeans. 

“A souvenir?” I couldn’t help but question, mostly out of mirth, but humour helped deflect from the weight I felt at having him here.

Matty hummed, fingers already back on me, trailing the length of my right leg before he was stretching his way back up again, head stopping between my parted thighs and nosing at a crease sat at the very top. He didn’t answer me though, instead choosing to shut me up with another gasp by dragging his thumb across my folds.

“Matty.”

“Hm?” He hummed again, having sat back on his heels to watch me squirm as he continued on. I shot him a rather annoyed glare.

“Take off your shirt and fuck me.” 

His brows rose languidly when he flicked his eyes back up to meet mine, then tilted his head. “But I’m having so much fun.”

With a swift kick to his side, Matty’s hand fell away and he shook his head around the beginnings of a smile. “Always so demanding.” He tutted and before I could spit something back– probably about him being the biggest hypocrite I knew– he was placing his hands either side of my head and leaning forward so that his lips were right beside my ear, his breath fanning the shell of it. “You gonna beg for it?”

My breathing grew heavy as I watched him pull away, dragging a finger up the inside of my thigh before stilling ever so briefly and venturing on, up over my hip and then my ribs. He pressed a slow kiss to my chest, eyes flicking up to find mine as his tongue swirled over the skin, there and then gone.

“Come on–”

He huffed a quiet laugh, the force of it lighting goosebumps over my exposed flesh. “Come on, baby. Beg.”

I rolled my eyes, reaching up to grab at his neck but he was already dancing out of my reach. He jutted his chin. 

“Matty.” I huffed.

“Yeah?”

I really wanted to throttle him, “Fuck me. I’m not asking.”

The corner of his mouth tugged itself up into a small smirk, “Good enough.”

A disbelieving chuckle escaped me, one which was quickly cut short by his wandering hands finding purchase on my hips once more, before he dragged me down the length of the bed, his mouth finding purchase on the swell of my breast.

He pressed fast kisses along the curve of it until his tongue flicked out over the nipple, causing me to gasp. My hands flew out to tangle themselves in his hair when he lapped it into his mouth to suck and I groaned at the weight of his hands cradling the curve of my back. 

“Matty.”

He hummed and the sound sent vibrations rippling out across my skin, I fisted my hands into his curls harder.

Shifting until my hips found his whilst he lavished at my chest, I pressed up into him, both annoyed by the fact he was still clad in his boxers and pleased by the very visible wet patch I could see. I ground against him and the sensation elicited moans from the pair of us, his hands flying down to hold my hips steady.

“Patience.” He murmured, but I was having none of it, lifting a leg against his arse to spur him closer. Matty’s head jerked up at the surprise before he looked down at me and stared. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“You better hope not.” I replied, hands finding the hem of his shirt and dragging it off before he could fight me on it. “I’ll make it painful.”

“Counting on it.” Matty murmured back, hair now a mess, either from the clutch I’d had on it moments before or from the way I’d all but yanked his top over his head. “On all fours,” He said roughly, tapping my outer thigh twice. My already flushed skin heated further at the understanding of how he wanted to take me but– contrary to popular belief– I didn’t argue and rolled onto my stomach.

Palms to the sheets, I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, eyes trained on the headboard. I grinned to myself when I heard Matty groan at the sight, looking back over my shoulder only briefly to see him palming himself through his boxers.

“Don’t have all day, Healy.” I prompted after a moment passed, just before the mattress shifted beneath his weight. I heard something drop to the floor a second later before he was right up behind me.

I jolted a tad at his sudden touch, then was forced to focus on the way his hands slid over my hips with that same familiarity they’d always done, moving up to the swell of my arse to squeeze it before dropping back down to spread my legs further apart.

A moment passed and I was forced to wait in the silence he then gifted me, waiting and waiting until I finally went to say something. It was then that I felt a finger glide down my spine, dragging ever so slowly over my jumping muscles. 

“Hands,” Matty then reminded and I was forced to blink away the haze I had drifted into, reaching up to grab onto the headboard just as I felt him swipe his dick between my thighs, guiding himself up over my folds, pushing past them so he rested at my entrance. 

I let go of a rush of air, splaying my hands further against the headboard before he slammed into me without any warning at all, all the way up to the hilt whilst I cried out at the sudden fullness. “Fuck.” I hissed, head falling between my shoulders as I winced. 

I breathed through the bit of pain that came with the thrust, acknowledging that Matty didn’t move an inch and instead keeping still, hands holding my hips even as he leaned over to whisper, “You good?”

His voice was surprisingly soft in the quietness that encased the flat, reminding me of other times we’d spent here, both like this and in other odd moments. It made my chest ache.

I took another moment to adjust to him before I nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He hummed in turn but didn’t question it, just waited, thumbs circling the skin on my hips for a moment in a manner so gentle and yet so very Matty, before finally, he moved. 

His thrusts were shallow and slow at first, his thumbs keeping the same steady tempo as they continued to soothe the tops of my hips. I moaned at the feel of him, before I managed to roll my hips back to meet his own, enjoying the sound that escaped him.

“So good.” He said, hand sliding further up my side and towards my ribs before I was titling my head back and Matty was holding a fistful of my hair. He just held it for a bit, forearm pressed against the skin of my back before his thrusts began to grow harder, tugging more and more.

The room was quickly filled with the sounds of our groans along with the bedframe rocking against the wall and I praised all the Gods above for the fact that there were currently no neighbours residing in the flat beyond it, before I was quickly swept up once more in the thick scent of sweat and sex. Matty fucking into me with a desperation I’d never quite experienced from him before.

I panted beneath him, nails digging into the wood of my headboard whilst he picked up the pace.

I couldn’t quite focus on anything but him. His breathy whispers, his fingertips which dotted my skin, the feel of him rocking in and out of me. It was almost as though nothing else existed but this moment, even if I knew it would soon end. His thrusts getting sloppier, his grip tightening, his murmured praises increasing by a tenfold. 

“Come on, baby.”

I liked when he called me that.

Made me feel special. 

But that thought soon soured. Because, was I really? 

How could I be anything special when my whole life I’d been nothing but a doormat for people to walk all over? I couldn’t help but think that Matty would be the same, like he’d gotten too close and finally seen what everybody else already had.

“Squeaks, baby. What do you need?”

I whimpered at his ask, tears collecting in the corners of my eyes. “I–”

What the fuck did I need? It wasn’t meant to feel so loaded, that question. But it felt as though the walls were now closing in. Because was this it? Was this the end?

“I–” I tried, feeling Matty’s fingers slip from the ends of my hair before a gentle palm laid itself flat on the small of my back.

“So good for me.” I heard him say and I moaned at the slight praise, breathing harder as he continued to mumble mostly to himself, “So pretty. So good.”

I was almost there, back arching under his palm as the other moved away from the right grasp it held on my hip, fingers finally finding my clit, knowing exactly what I needed.

“Yes.” I panted as the combination of his hard thrusts and steady hand sent my head into a dizzying pool of water, “God, yes. I–”

I think I screamed as I came, his fingers working deftly whilst mine clung to the headboard, body trembling as I fought to keep myself up. But Matty was there, holding me long enough so that he could reach his high and pull out with a loud grunt, coating my inner thighs. 

We stayed there for, I don’t know how long, until he finally released me, falling away whilst I slumped forward onto the pillows before us. He followed a second later, still catching his breath as he stared up at the ceiling. I watched him, eyes hidden behind my forearm and a sprawl of hair that had fallen over my face, content to soak in what I could of him. What I had left.

Then Matty shifted beside me, I half expected him to get up and leave with some half-arsed excuse on the tip of his tongue, but he paused when he caught my heavy gaze. I let my eyes trail over the side of face, on the tired circles settled beneath his lash line and the slope of his nose.

He looked back towards the ceiling.

“You got your souvenir, remember?” I found myself saying, stupidly, voice just above a croaked murmur, “Don’t let me keep you.”

Quiet. And then, “Do you want me to?”

I knew what he meant, but still I asked, “Want what?”

Matty’s head slowly turned towards me, eyes guarded and peering over at my devastated form. I wondered what he made of me right then, if he thought anything at all. 

When he offered me no words, I refused to add anything either and felt what was left of my heart crumple up into a pitiful bundle when he pushed himself to the edge of a bed with a barely there sigh.

The air in my lungs caught as I watched and waited, eyes trailing after him as he rounded the bed frame to pick up his discarded boxers. I let them slip closed again, not wanting to watch him leave. 

I listened to his feet pad across the hardwood floors and out of the room. My chest ached with every step but I didn’t dare stop him, burying my face further into my pillow. 

I laid in wait for the front door to open, for there to be a clue to his evident departure, but then the footsteps returned. I didn’t dare give myself false hope, knowing he must have forgotten something to have come back. But the padding continued, closer and closer until they were back by the bed and I held my breath as it creaked, my eyes stinging just as I felt a warm damp cloth press against my inner thighs, wiping me clean.

I choked on the sob that wanted to escape me and the cloth paused for a split second before venturing on. I waited, wondering why he was doing this, why he was dragging it out.

Just leave already.

But then the cloth was pulling away again, and the bed was creaking again, and the tears, they wouldn’t stop. 

Stay. 

Please just stay.

I gasped into the pillowcase, stomach tensing with the strength to keep quiet. To let him leave quietly. 

I wouldn’t cry.

And then there was quiet, at least for a moment or two, before the bed dipped once more and there was a hand in my hair, combing the strands from out of my face and tucking them behind my ear.

When I opened my eyes, he was still there. Dressed and ready to go, but still sitting there beside me. Whilst I laid bare, curled up into a ball to better protect myself from his knowing gaze.

Suddenly everything hurt. Suddenly I felt exhausted and was falling apart at the seams.

Matty moved carefully, stretching toward the foot of the bed before returning with the sheet to cover me up, laying it gently over my trembling shoulders. He leaned in to press a slow kiss to my forehead and then went to move away again.

My hand caught his wrist.

And then I was flat out sobbing. Hysterical even. Crying into the pillow almost soundlessly as I gasped to try and catch my breath. Because I wanted him to stay. I needed him to stay.

Not just for me. But for Teddy. And for the life he brought into my dreary flat. To the kindness he never failed to gift me.

I needed him to stay.

I needed him.

I opened my mouth to ask, to let him know. But I could hardly even bear to look at him, blurred as he was through my onslaught of tears, Matty still held the key to all but destroying what little I had left.

His hand returned to my hair, fingers tangling themselves in it, a sudden contrast to the rough grip they’d held there earlier. And then he settled further onto the bed, back pressed against the headboard whilst he continued to run his fingers through my hair.

The tears still flowed but the sobs came less and less, until I was blinking at his shadowed figure in the dark, holding out hope that somehow he’d just know and he’d stay. 

[matan4il]

Update post:

Rockets from Gaza continue to be fired at Israel. The 7 days where there was a break in the fighting, were clearly used by Hamas to re-build their abilities to fire into Israel, because the rocket attacks since the fighting has resumed are more intense than they were in the days before the break started. The rockets from Gaza were joined today by rockets from Hezbollah in Lebanon, and from Syria. Among other consequences we've seen on this day, at least 12 Israelis were injured by this rocket fire, and a synagogue was hit.

As the testimonies about the rapes and sexual assaults committed by Hamas continue to mount, in the last two days, we got confirmation that men were victimized by Hamas, too. The voices decrying the rapes as crimes against humanity are starting to be heard as well. The fact that it took people two months to get there, and some (*cough* the UN Women's organization *cough*) still issued what can barely be called a pale statement on the subject. When taken with how long it took them to speak, it really is not enough. But some voices are actually surprising. The Guardian is notoriously anti-Israel, to the point where its own Jewish worker has written about not feeling safe there. But now they've published an op ed that said exactly what needed to be said: rape is rape. And looking away from rape, for whatever reason, is wrong. And here's another testimony from a piece by The Sunday Times:

People are speculating on why Hamas won't release the last of the women that are known to be alive and in captivity in Gaza, despite that being a breach of the hostage deal, and a red line for Israel. A common hypothesis is that these women must have been raped and abused so badly, Hamas doesn't want to release them. IDK if this is true, but then, I'm not just writing about what Israelis know for sure. I'm mainly writing about what Israelis are going through, the torment of not knowing, the fear of the darkest possibilities that come up when the unknown looms over us, and this hypothesis is a part of it.

The IDF says it has destroyed 500 terror tunnels in Gaza since the fighting began, and 800 tunnel shafts. It has also published the names of Hamas leaders, and called on them to surrender. This is a reminder that Hamas could stop all the fighting, and save many Palestinians, by surrendering immediately, and returning all the hostages that it's still holding.

This is Yaron Avraham.

He was born to an Israeli Arab family in Lod. When he was 9 years old, his beloved older sister was murdered in front of his eyes by his older brothers, for having returned home late (i.e, for supposedly being promiscuous). He was incredibly distraught, since he was so attached to her, and to get him out of the way, he was sent by his brothers to study at an extremist mosque in Gaza. He recounted that he was there for 5.5 years, during which the boys were indoctrinated to hate Jews, and think little of their own lives. As a climax exercise, they were "buried" alive in a real grave, in a real cemetery, while their classmates held their funeral above them. Yaron Avraham said it took him years to heal from this experience. Another incident that he shared, is that once, two of his classmates were accused of being sexually active together (he didn't believe the accusation, and thought they were being made an example of). The two boys were beheaded in front of their classmates. Yaron gave them hell at the mosque, until they sent him back to his family. His brothers then had him study instead in another extremist mosque, this time in the village of Yatta. After another 1.5 years there, he ran away, and ended up living on the streets of Lod, a mixed Israeli city. He was taken in by a Jewish man, who fed and took care of him, and gave him proper education. After a couple of years, Yaron chose to volunteer, to serve in the IDF. His unit was sent to Gaza, and he ended up outside the mosque where he was abused. He wanted to go in and kill everyone there, but his Jewish commander stopped him. "You don't understand," he tried to explain the antisemitic brainwashing that happened inside that mosque, but his commander insisted that killing everyone inside goes against our values. Yaron said that this was the beginning of his journey to convert to Judaism, when he saw how instead of sanctifying death, Jews sanctify life. Everyone's life. Even their enemies'.

Yaron has retold his story numerous times, my summary here is based on several of his interviews, written and filmed. But something that got to me about a recent one, that he gave after Oct 7, is that he was asked about the occupation as the excuse anti-Israelis give for Hamas' brutal violence. Yaron said that it was never mentioned! That in the 7 years he spent in those two mosques, no one ever talked to them about the occupation. That it was always clear this was a religious fight. The problem was the evil character of the Jews. That is the mentality of Hamas terrorists. That is the antisemitic brainwashing that they undergo. That's why they can rape, maim, torture and murder without a second thought, even though they surely know this would not liberate any Palestinian.

The Iran-funded Houthis terrorists attacked two ships today, both supposedly for being Israeli. The less severely damaged ship has one shareholder who's an Israeli businessman. The more severely damaged one has nothing to do with Israel, it's believed the Houthis might have misidentified it. Officially, the Houthis say they are in a war against Israel and the US.

This is 21 years old Keshet Kasrotti.

He was murdered at the Nova music festival, one of over 360 young people slaughtered there. His mom said that her one comfort, is that he was shot in the chest, so he died quickly. His suffering didn't last as long as it did for some. She also shared that many Israelis, upon hearing her son's first name (it means 'rainbow' in Hebrew) sent her this short poem by Neria Yaakov:

"I am breaking / said the light / and became a rainbow."

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[sylvies-chen]

sweet nothing sleeping

summary: lucy has never been so happy to have fallen in love as she is when she’s falling asleep

pairing: tim bradford/lucy chen

word count: short??? i wrote this on notes app don’t ask me to count

warnings: none

a/n: this was written at *many* a 2am but it was my coping mechanism for the chenford breakup so there will be nothing but fluff and happiness here!! but also sorry in advance for any typos. written for my @morganupstead who gave me this idea ages ago and I just took forever to write it LOL

••• ••• ••• •••

cause they said the end is coming

everyone’s up to something

I find myself running home to your

sweet nothings

She’s had a long day.

The list of grievances wracked up in a single shift has been nothing short of astounding. For example: a man no less than an hour into her first stretch of patrol who puked on her. A bar fight gone horribly wrong, and he was drunk out of his mind so when she showed up at the tail end of a swift punch to the drunkard’s gut then… well, you can figure out the rest. Then another man threatened to sue her and the entire LAPD Mid Wilshire division because he refused to be told by a woman to stop ejaculating in public. Nothing but insufferable misdemeanours one after the other, without end. The robbery homicide tailing the end of her shift was the worst. Lucy doesn’t know what’s more horrible: how violent the young married couple’s death was, or how her first thought was that she wished she could have been the detective on a flashy case like this. Knowing she was even capable of putting her career before her compassion and duty left her gutted.

It leaves her now with a bitter aftertaste of guilt and shame. That coupled with the exhaustion and ridicule of her other calls makes for a particularly dreadful combination. Normally she can see Tim in passing and vent to him about things, but he’d been stuck in some new Metro training program all day. Updated protocol or tactical practice, or whatever they wanted to call it. Based on the state she sees Tim in at the end of one of those days, she’d call it something more akin to torture. It also means she had no support system throughout the day whatsoever apart from Nolan’s typical words of encouragement, which were swell but never substantive.

Since Tamara’s moved out, things have been lonely too. She misses her old roommate. If nothing else, at the end of the day Lucy still had a young and vulnerable kid she had to feed and house and clothe. Cooking for them always felt like a backup ritual, a healing sort of constancy, and that’s gone too.

So she heads to Tim’s. Her foot feels like lead on the gas, pushing down hard and inching dangerously closer to speeding the closer she gets to his place. It’s like her heart can feel the distance closing and misses him even more, the weight of her bad day crushing her heart and leaving spider fractures. A magnetic pull is always at its strongest the minute before contact, after all.

For the most part, Lucy’s been able to hold it together. She’s kept things professional, never complained, held her head high. And even as she trembles with anticipation as she knocks on the door, there’s a part of her refusing to let go of that facade.

She knocks at the door, but there’s no answer. Three louder knocks after a minute of waiting, and still nothing. Only after a third round of knocking does she think to use the spare key he’d given her last month.

“Hi,” Lucy calls out as she enters his place. No immediate response, but that’s no matter. She puts the keys down in his key bowl and hangs up her jacket.

The sound of nails skidding against the floor alert her only seconds in advance to Kojo’s presence. He runs up to her full speed but comes to a screeching halt when he reaches her. With his tail still waving fervently, he tries to sit down. (Tim’s trained him to understand that petting and general affection from guests is contingent upon his very handsome sitting.)

“Kojo! Hey there buddy,” she greets him with a soft laugh, like an old friend. Lucy knows by now, even having owned him once, to scratch him behind his ears. The gesture earns her a right good lick from chin to cheek on the left side of her face.

“Yeah, you’re a good boy, aren’t you? You’re a good boy,” she tells him as she keeps petting him. “Now where’s our Tim?”

She looks around half expecting Tim to appear in the hallway, but no sign of him is to be seen anywhere, save for the sound of his television from the next room. Football. Figures.

“Alright, Sir Kojo, King of the Canines,” she declares, patting him on the head and gently urging him forward by the collar, “let’s see what your dad’s watching.”

The two of them make their way to the family room to see what he’s up to. For a football game, Lucy’s already surprised that he isn’t shouting at the TV and jumping up and down like he normally does.

When she enters the room though, she doesn’t see him watching sports. Instead, she sees a passed-out Tim on the couch, snoring in his Rams jersey, remote loosely balanced in his hand. She tilts her head, curiously soaking in the scene.

She should have expected this. He’s been working as hard as she has lately. Though she isn’t entirely sure as to why, he’s been taking on extra shifts and doing double overtime these past two weeks. God knows he didn’t have the steam for a full game of football. Tack on her unexpected company, and she’s sure she’ll tire him out even more.

But the look of him. The television emits a soft glow that flashes hues of green and blue across his stubbled cheekbones. His head hangs back completely crooked on the headrest, and with the positioning of his arms, Tim’s posed like a dramatic renaissance painting. She can’t help but let out a soft giggle under her breath, and then silences into the brightest of smiles she can give after a day like hers, because nothing about this is funny anymore.

Even drooling, his mere presence soothes her. Lying there, entirely disarmed and peaceful. The world and all its troubles just melt away, dissolve in her mind until only a faint trace of what remains lingers like dust. It’s a beautiful haze Lucy can get stuck in, just standing there and watching him. The tight corners of his mouth, his eyes shut gently, the curve of his neck, the way his hair’s a little shorter right now.

Oh hell. Who is she to disrupt him anyways.

She tiptoes over to the couch and carefully extracts the remote from his hand. Turning the television off to avoid more light and sound will definitely help him sleep. Whether Tim’s asleep or awake, it doesn’t matter. Lucy always sleeps better when she’s next to him.

What doesn’t help Tim sleep, apparently, is Kojo. Having followed Lucy into the room, though she will defend him ferociously and say his heart is in the right place, Kojo makes a beeline for the couch and starts pulling at Tim’s jeans with his sharp canine teeth.

“No! No, Kojo! Bad Kojo, stay back,” she pleads in a whisper pushed out through gritted teeth.

Kojo seems to only get more excited— a sort of escalation which Lucy saw all too frequently in her calls from today. Tim jolts awake almost immediately.

“What the-“ he sits up and pulls his jeans away from Kojo, but then looks up at Lucy, still hovering over him guilty as ever. “Lucy?”

“Sorry.” She winces, finally shooing Kojo away enough to give them more space. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I was trying to put a blanket over you but Kojo got excited.”

“It’s okay,” he assures her, though he’s still rubbing at his eyes. Lucy’s almost certain he’s still half asleep and hasn’t registered the whole situation before him. “I gave you a key for a reason. What are you doing here?”

“I…” She tries to explain it rationally to him, to go through each bad happening chronologically, to compartmentalize. But then, his voice. His sweet, low, milky, humming voice like the pulse of a heart being soothed into a slower rhythm. It’s so steady, so calm. Something about hearing it unlocks a valve within her. She cracks, as she knew she would when she decided to come, and before she knows it she’s crying.

“Hey, hey,” Tim hushes gently, immediately sitting up. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Oh nothing,” she sobs. “I just had a crappy day. I got puked on and yelled at and all this nonsense which I can normally handle but I don’t even know why I’m… why I’m…”

“Don’t question it too much,” he tells her. “Just let it out.”

“Okay.”

And so she does. For a little bit, she just cries. Surprisingly, it’s not sad. The world isn’t ending, nothing is going to go wrong. There is no other shoe about to drop, no real heartbreak, no evil around. These tears are but a release, and there’s a safety to them.

Once she’s done, she wipes at her tears with her sleeves and sniffles.

“Better?”

“Better,” she says, and can really mean it, genuine smile and all. “Thanks.”

“You never have to thank me.”

She nods, but switches the subject. “You never told me how you’re Metro seminar went today.”

“Eh, it was alright,” he says. “Apart from being exhausted and sore all over, of course. We’ve got some new recruits who are… eager.”

She looks at him with loving suspicion. “You went full Tim 1.0 on them, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he admits with a big huff of relief. “I ran through the drills and protocol updates 36 times because they couldn’t get it right. I didn’t have the heart to just demote them from my team.”

“Tim Bradford not having the heart for a tough love moment? Who are you?” She teases. “Where was this energy 6 years ago?”

“Waiting for you to come along and change it, I guess,” he sighs wistfully. “Always just waiting for you.”

“You’ve gone soft, Sergeant Bradford.” She shakes her head. “People will talk.”

“Let them.”

He pulls her in for a kiss, and it only deepens for a moment, then plateauing into a pleasant and chaste hum before release. His arms pull her into his side and her head finds that perfect spot on his chest to nestle into.

The sigh she lets out is almost a song. “This feels good, being here with you. Feeling at peace.”

“Just wait for it.”

“Huh?”

Lucy doesn’t know how Tim saw this coming, but before even asking she’s given an answer. Kojo jumps up onto the couch and steps on Lucy’s lap to lick her and Tim all over their tired, sweaty faces.

“Argh! Kojo, off!” She squeals, though not so gravely that she can’t laugh in the process. Eventually, with enough shooing, Kojo calms down. He doesn’t leave the couch, but lies down next to them, choosing to rest his head on her lap and make happy little sighs.

“Told you.”

“How did you know he would do that?”

Tim shrugs. “He’s happier when you’re around. Like me.”

Lucy smiles, even when pushing Kojo off of them. “I love you.”

Tim doesn’t respond. Too much time passes. A beat, and then another. She gets worried.

“Tim?”

“Oh so you weren’t talking to the dog then?”

She giggles and smacks him playfully across the chest with the back of her hand. “No! Well I do love him, but he drools. And you’re—“

“Human?”

“The love of my life.”

She watches the ripple of those words dance across his face. Tim smiles, his cheeks turning all shades of pink and red. Though he doesn’t seem scared off by her comment, the surprise of it still shows in his raised eyebrows and subsequent lines in his forehead. The way his head tilts, like he can’t quite believe it. But, above all else, the love in his eyes. And that way he’s looking at her now… sometimes she thinks that’s what life’s all about.

“I know I don’t have to be yours,” she continues. “You know, having been married before and all, but—“

“Don’t think for a second you aren’t,” he lets out, almost like the words couldn’t contain themselves. “You are.”

“Good.” Her turn now: the ridiculous blushing, the smile, the love in her eyes. So much joy.

So much fatigue too though. Being around him, getting to decompress like this, it’s making her crash fast. She yawns, and Tim yawns in subconscious response, and out of his own fatigue.

“I should get going,” Lucy tells him, though her face is still nestled into his sweater and has no intention of leaving. “I really only came over to feel some comfort and decompress but I didn’t bring a change of clothes or anything.”

“Mmm,” he groans in disapproval of the idea. “Stay for a bit.”

“No. No, I’ve… gotta…” She sucks in a deep breath, Tim’s woody scent catching onto her nose. Her eyes flutter and her muscles start to release their tension as the hand which isn’t sprawled across Tim’s chest starts to massage the spot behind Kojo’s ear.

“Oh, maybe just a few minutes…” she tells him hesitantly. “But keep me talking, I don’t want to fall asleep.”

“Ok. What about the rest of your day? You never finished telling me all the things that had you so upset.”

“Well it started when the air conditioning in the shop nearly exploded on me, and then I immediately took my first call at this dive bar before I could get it fixed. But oh, you won’t believe what this one guy did…”

Lucy goes on and on, her eyes growing heavy and her voice growing layers of drowsy rasp, fighting sleep to tell all her stories of woe. The drunkards, the sexist pigs, the violence. Part of her registers Tim’s lack of response or reaction as she tells her stories. Time passes. She talks, and he listens.

“I think it’s better not to dwell on it though,” she concludes eventually. “I’ve felt all I can feel about it for one day. And anyways I… I can barely remember my own anguish now. It feels so far aw—“

She looks up to see him passed out, his breathing a low rumble that threatens snoring. The soft fur under her other hand feels alarmingly still as well, until she looks to the other side and sees Kojo sleeping on her lap.

So much for leaving. She supposes that’s exactly how she wants things anyway. The heartbeats of these two precious boys at the tips of her fingers, nestled right next to hers. Giving her strength, steadying her scattered mind. Under these dim lights and warm blankets and beloved company, she wouldn’t dare move a muscle.

“Oh hell, who was I kidding,” she whispers to him. “I was always going to end up here anyways. With you.”

She rests her head on his chest once more. The last thing she remembers is the rise and fall of Tim’s chest against her hand and the feel of Kojo’s soft fur against her other.

This isn’t a big moment. No fireworks, no heartfelt confessions, no twirls or kisses in the rain. But even as the day ends and the lights go out, she feels love where it dwells best: in a quiet room. And it remains that Lucy has never been so happy to have fallen in love as she is when she’s falling asleep.

[agirlandherquill]

writeblr intro!

this has been a long time coming and i've finally gotten around to it after, what? 4 months of being a part of this delightfully and beautifully chaotic community known as writeblr,

so, about me - well, let's see, i'm A Girl and Her Quill - a moniker i'm adopting because who doesn't enjoy a little sense of mystery? now, what else is there to say about me? i love words, i adore stories, and i love books - my favourites are impossible to narrow down to a simple list so i'll just name a few off the top of my head: great expectations - shockingly fell in love and decided to study it for literature coursework (it paid off, 24/25 marks, best damn essay i have ever written), ready player one - this needs no explanation, the brilliance is clear in the title and i also love its sequel, and for the last of the few books i can think of i'm going to say outlander - i'm reading it at the minute and its beautiful (i've seen up to s2 of the show, so i will be rewatching once I finish the book, and start the second book probably, i just can't resist)

why am i here? - as aforementioned i love stories and i've been writing my whole life, (insert a respectful nod to the graveyard of childhood manuscripts long since abandoned) and i've been working on writing a novel for, well, about four years now? that novel being `Ruin's Reprisal, which has undergone one draft, a total rewrite, and now i'm on to edits - and that story has been with me through some of the most crucial years of my life and thankfully, it's almost done (small white lie, i'm editing chapter 20/roughly 40 at the moment, but i'm getting there); and as for why i'm on writeblr well, as the description of my blog states, it really was a dark night with rain battering the windows, and the mood of it so to speak gave me the courage to sign up to the wonderful world of chaos that is tumblr and to start sharing my writing with the world!

and speaking of sharing my writing, i signed up to ao3 as of this morning and i've been collecting all of the posts relating to my novel from tumblr on there, so if reading on ao3 is more your thing than Tumblr, you can find me as: agirlandherquill

so that's about it from me for now, if i think of anything else to add i'll update this post, and i just want to say a truly heartfelt thank you to everyone who has made me feel so welcome and enjoyed the little snippets i bestow from time to time (i do my best to post daily, reckon i've only slipped about 3 days in total so i'm rather impressed with myself)

signing off on the long overdue intro,

~ A Girl and Her Quill

[lovezella]

The Witch of Westeros

CHAPTER ONE - what heavy storm brings

disclaimer:

I do not own House of the Dragon nor the Scarlet Witch and her powers. Credits to Marvel and Stan Lee.

gif not mine, I got it from pinterest

this fanfic does not follow the plot of the series nor its books. storyline belongs to me.

note:

I am so so sorry for not updating for weeks, I've been busy with school and friends and christmas. And I also lost my motivation with writing but I'm back now!!

anyway, sorry for the long wait!!

warning:

mention of blood, open wounds, and I think that's all, but if I missed anything, please tell me. !! NOT EDITED !!

-×-

Thunder was heard from the gloomy sky, and a howl of wind passed through the crowd of people from the busy streets of the market. Yells and cries of vendors who desperately call for customers to buy from their shops mixed with the sound of talks of the people passing by, but the only thing you can focus on that leaves their mouths is the topic of the prince's name day.

Prince Joffrey's 12th name day was the only thing people talked about the whole week. And it was tomorrow. However, the king hosted a get-together party tonight and invited a few noble houses to celebrate. Despite not having an invite, the people of King's Landing are hosting dinner feasts in their homes in honour of the prince's day.

Though, you can't say the same. Unlike the others excited about the prince's name day, you were lost.

Five months, that's how long you've been in this...peculiar world. Although, you can't say that the last five months had been treating you with nothing but peace, something you needed after everything. The world you landed in was strange. Nevertheless, it amazes you how it all works. You don't know everything about it yet, but the experience was enough to tell you that it's nothing like the others you've ever been to.

Another rumble from the sky was heard, and it was enough to signal you that rain—perhaps a storm might arrive due to the gloomy weather.

The thought of a storm coming made you quicken your pace. You were making your way home from the market since you decided to shop for food like the others. Though your house wasn't much like a real house, it's more of a cabin. But it was big enough for a family of three.

Your house came into your view a few feet away. It was located nearby the shore and a few miles from the city. The waves from the sea were getting harsher and more vigorous. You internally thank your past self for putting an invisible barrier, a hex, around the house for safety.

Just as you were about to enter, something floating from the sea caught your attention. You don't know what it was, but a small voice in your mind told you to check it out.

Dropping the bags you held to the ground gently enough, not letting anything fall to waste. You position your hand to your side, ready to summon your magic in case it is dangerous you're walking towards.

As you approach the sea, you notice that what is floating isn't a creature or an object. It was a body. A human body.

But you didn't know if they were alive or not.

The thought of a possible dead body floating in the sea made your hesitation go away and run toward the sea, not caring if your skirt got wet. You'll dry it later with magic.

When you got closer to the body, it gave you a good look at them. He was a boy, merely a man. His sleeve was ripped open, and a deep gash on his arm. Blood dripped down from the wound, and it was clear it was still fresh. You pressed your fingers on his pulse, sighing in relief when you realized he was alive.

Not wasting any more time, you waved your hand, lifting the young boy with your magic and snapping your fingers with your free hand, teleporting you and the boy inside your home.

You placed him on the sofa, carefully lifting his wounded arm. You crouched down beside him and started using your magic to heal him.

Once he was fully healed, you took some heavy metal off the armour so he could be more comfortable and used your magic to dry him off. Looking at his wound again, your magic helped it heal, but there was still a dark scar.

You summoned a clean towel to clean off the excess blood on his arm. He stirred a little from your touch, and you thank the gods that he was alright. You softly smiled, bringing your free hand to brush his hair, soothing him back to sleep.

He reminded you of your twins with his dark brunette hair, but he mostly reminded you of your Billy. He was usually the gentle one, keeping his brother out of trouble or, at least, he tried to. You wondered if this young boy is like him too or if he has a brother or sister.

"Oh, Gods." You mumbled, eyes widening in realization. Your hand slowed as your mind became clouded with thoughts. His family, his parents. They must be so worried about him.

Sighing, you continued cleaning his arm and stood up, patting your dress that was still wet. You figured you would ask him when he wakes up. Hopefully, he trusts you enough to tell your where he came from so you can bring him back to safety.

-×-

The storm wasn't stopping anytime soon, so you thought you could make a nice warm soup for you and the boy when he woke up. It was a cold, chilly night, and you changed into a more comfortable dress to keep you warm. You noticed the young boy was shivering from the cold, so you brought a nice fur blanket and wrapped it around him.

You sat on the stool, looking out the window as you got lost in your thoughts, thinking about, well...everything.

This world was different, but it somehow felt familiar to you. You weren't a nostalgic person, per se. But you do value things, especially memories.

You sighed blissfully, the sound of heavy rain dropping from the skies with thunder following. It was the same weather when you first arrived, and it caused you a sense of deja vu. You still remember what happened months ago.

But before you could get lost in your thoughts again, you heard a groan behind you. He's awake.

You turned to see him sitting up, looking around, confused. You felt bad for the young boy. "You're awake," You spoke in a soft tone.

He turned in surprise before standing up quickly. "W-who are you? Where am I?" He urgently asked in a shaky tone.

You sent him a soft smile, hoping to ease him. "You're in my house, dear. I found you in the sea with a deep wound in your arm and brought you here before you lost more blood and healed you." You explained to him.

He seemed speechless for a second as if he couldn't believe he was still alive. Was the accident he was in so bad that he is contemplating his survival?

"Thank you," The young boy said, looking down shyly before looking you in the eye. "Thank you for healing me, my lady."

You smiled at him, "Of course, it's no problem." Just then, you remember the food you made. "Oh, I made some food if you want some. It's still warm, perfect for the weather."

He seemed hesitant, but his stomach let out a grumble. His gaze dropped to his stomach, frowning as if he felt betrayed. You chuckled, gesturing for him to sit on the stool on the other side. You then stood up and got him a bowl of food, placing it on his side of the table.

"Come, don't be shy." You sent him a gentle smile. He eventually gave in and sat on the stool. You observed as he took his first bite, and seeing his eyes light up made you smile wider.

"Are you feeling better?" You asked, trying to make small talk but also concerned about his health.

He looked up and nodded, "Yes, my lady. I feel a lot better."

"Oh, please, call me Y/n." You insisted.

"If you insist, my lad- I mean, Y/n. My name's Lucerys," Lucerys said, nodding his head respectfully.

For some reason, the name felt familiar to you. Sure, you heard it from somewhere before. Lucerys...Lucerys Velaryon, oh gods, he's a prince. The son of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Leanor Velaryon, but he and his brothers were rumoured to be bastards. You knew better than to assume things, although the people in the city were sure of it. Anyway, it's not like your opinion mattered.

"You're a prince." You pointed out, trying to be calm so he wouldn't freak out.

Lucerys looked around before sighing. "Yes, I am a prince. And I assure you, lady Y/n, that I mean no harm to you and your family."

"I am not worried about that, dear." You assured him, standing up from your chair. "Tea?" you offered, placing two cups on the table. He nodded, muttering a small 'please' and 'thank you' before taking a bite of his food.

Another thunder was heard from outside, startling Lucerys a little. You looked out the window and saw the rain getting heavier.

"Lucerys, honey," You started, and the young boy looked at you, "I don't think the storm is going to end soon. Should you stay here for the night until the storm stop, we will figure out how to bring you back to the princess safely," you suggested.

"Oh, no, no. I couldn't intrude, my lady." He declined, shaking his head and taking a sip of his tea.

"Don't worry, dear. You're not intruding." You said, putting away your plate and cup. "I have two rooms and extra clothes for you to be comfortable." Lucerys was undecided, but when he looked at the hardy storm outside, he eventually agreed.

You guided him to one of the empty rooms you had and gave him spare clothes to change into.

"Lady Y/n," Lucerys called before you could close the door.

"Yes, Luke?" He insisted that you call him that instead of his full name just a while ago when you showed him the room.

"Thank you for this, all of this." He said, smiling at you shyly, but there was a grateful look on his face to show that he was completely genuine.

You smiled back at him, but the more you looked at him, he kept reminding you of your Billy. "You're welcome," you replied, nodding your head before closing the door.

You hoped that you could bring him home safely tomorrow to his family.

taglist: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @floralenvu @scarwicht @todod0kii

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Recall - Part 3

UN(F*CKING)BELIEVABLE

A/N: Here's the part where I ask you to pretend it hasn't been MONTHS and MONTHS since the last update. I have no excuses for how long its taken me to get this part written other than it hurt. Thank you to everyone who has been on this ride with me from the beginning or from any point along the way, especially @something-tofightfor for the constant encouragement on this story. I've known how it all shakes out for a while now, and after this there are only two parts left. I hope you all like where it's headed, because it's full steam ahead from here on out!

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: language, mention of death and loss, Jack has a lot of Trauma stored in his noggin and in his heart

Summary: Merlin helps shed some light on the mysterious Project Aster. Jack awakens from the Recall program... And you find yourself even more involved in this mission than you already were.

Series Masterlist

To his credit, Champ didn’t keep you waiting long at all, and for that you were thankful. 

“Talk to me, Ginger Ale. What in tarnation is goin’ on with our man Whiskey? And how bad is it? No sugarcoatin’.” 

He strode into the lab, dressed the same as he would be for a boardroom meeting - stetson to bootsoles - and fully alert, despite the late hour. You glanced down at your watch as the lab door slid shut behind him, frowning as the numbers there dwindled further. 

00:28:19 REMAINING 

We’ve gotten nowhere. We… He’ll be awake soon and we have no real idea what’s wrong.

“We’re not entirely sure, Champ.” Ginger’s response called your attention back to the conversation at hand. “Physically, everything is fine. The Alpha-gel is doing its job. The wound is almost completely healed, his vital signs are all within normal limits, and the Recall program booted up and ran without issue.” She gestured to the various monitors that displayed proof of what she’d just said, Champ nodding along as he looked them over for himself.

“Well that’s a good start,” he mused, crossing his arms over his chest. “So where’s the hangup?” Without taking his eyes off the screens in front of him, he tilted his head in your direction. “Maraschino? Fill me in.” 

He’s asking me? 

Your eyes widened in surprise as he addressed you, and you quickly looked over at Ginger for reassurance. She gave you a small, encouraging nod, and mouthed the words go ahead. 

“The problem isn’t with J-” You cut yourself off before you could break protocol in front of the head of the organization himself. “-with Whiskey. It’s with his file.” Champ turned his weathered visage on you then, even deeper creases forming over and between his unruly eyebrows as he frowned. “There are some inconsistencies in his chart. Things that were never updated. But it’s more than that. It’s-” 

You winced, stepping up to the computer screens to pull up the hidden files that Merlin unearthed. It’s potentially much worse than that. 

“What the devil is Project Aster?” Champ’s mumbled confusion confirmed what you and Ginger had already suspected - that he was just as in the dark about the surreptitious op as you were. 

Ginger sighed. “We were really hoping that you could tell us, boss.” She shook her head and lifted her right hand up to resituate her glasses. “We can’t access any of the records on it. Merlin is working on that as we speak. But we do know that there has been crossover with the Recall Program and this Project Aster.” Gesturing at the screen, she indicated the flags in Jack’s decrypted file that showed where the two operations coincided in the past. “Most of these incidents date back to before you took over from the last Agent Champagne.” 

“Most?” One eyebrow arched in question as he turned to face her. “You mean to tell me that this malarky-” He pointed to the screen with one hand, the other going to his hip. “- has been goin’ on under our noses? On my watch?” He clicked his tongue, a look of pure disappointment in himself crossing his face. “How?” 

“That’s what we need to figure out,” Ginger responded, sympathy and urgency woven through her tone. “And we need to know if Whiskey was the only one involved or if this affects any of the others.” 

You knew that was true. You had to rule out an agency-wide problem, and going through every operative’s file with Merlin’s fine-toothed comb would take time. But something in the center of your brain told you that it was too big of a coincidence - the Project and the flower Jack had tattooed on his chest sharing the same name - for it to apply to anyone else but him. He got that tattoo because it was his wife’s favorite flower. He told me that. It’s… A metallic taste filled your mouth as you glanced over at him and finished your thought. I don’t know how yet, but it’s connected. It has to be. 

“When did you last hear from Merlin and the Galahads?” Champ asked. “And what’s the status of their mission?” 

Their mission. Right. 

In the chaos of dealing with Jack you’d almost forgotten what had preceded his arrival in the lab. A chill raced down your spine as you reminded yourself what was at stake if Eggsy and Harry weren’t able to pull it off without Jack’s help. You looked over at Agent Tequila. What little of his skin you could see through the dome of the recovery bay was struck through with spidery blue veins. They crept up the side of his throat and over the cut of his jaw, the poison in them threatening to spread through his entire bloodstream if the antidote wasn’t administered soon. You knew that there were millions of others in the same danger, and that most of them were not fortunate enough to receive the technologically advanced medical care that you and Ginger had been able to give him to slow the effects of the tainted drugs. You knew that thousands of people had likely already succumbed, and countless more would soon follow if The Golden Circle wasn’t stopped. 

They will be. They have to be. 

Ginger tapped on the keyboard to pull up a map showing the GPS tracker that was located on the Statesman plane they’d let the Kingsman Agents borrow. It showed that it was still in the air. “They haven’t landed yet,” she explained in answer to his second question. “And they- oh.” 

Oh? Your eyes darted from the map to the woman, and then back to the screen as she pulled up a message from Merlin. Oh.

Ginger Ale - Still working on cracking these files. Each one has a different key so it’s taking some time. From what I can see so far, it looks like Project Aster had something to do with memory restoration, specifically restoring the intensity of a memory. Possibly a precursor to your Recall program? I’ll have a better idea once I crack more of these flagged events. Forwarding the two decoded files now. Let me know if anything stands out to you, otherwise I’ll touch base again when I have more. - Merlin 

You frowned at the screen and read the message a second time, your grip on the chairback in front of you tightening. Restoring the intensity of a memory? The furrow between your brows deepened as you pondered the implications of a procedure like that. Sharpening the details of a memory, ensuring that nothing was forgotten and that time didn’t numb the subject’s initial thoughts and reactions certainly had its place in an agency like Statesman. But if they were running Project Aster in conjunction with Recall… Your eyes strayed from the screen to the manilla folder on the countertop, honing in on the silver paperclip that you knew was only securing a single item - a polaroid. Oh, shit. Your heart thudded to a full stop and then plummeted into your stomach as you put two and two together. 

“His wife.” The words came out in a breathless whisper, a sour taste filling your mouth as you turned to face Ginger. “Ginger, does that mean… If Aster and Recall were mixed, does that mean that the memory that they were-” You winced. “- intensifying, is the memory of losing his wife?” 

Ginger’s eyes went wide as she inhaled deeply through her nose. A handful of seconds ticked by without a response, and you knew that meant that she was trying and failing to come up with a way to easily dismiss your hypothesis. When nothing came to her she looked to Champ, the man’s weathered features reflecting the heaviness you felt in your own heart. 

“How on Earth could that be somethin’ worth puttin’ a man through?” Champ’s question broke the silence, but it was clear in his tone that he didn’t doubt what you’d proposed. He frowned, and the glint of compassion you saw enter his eyes made your heart break even more, because you knew he cared for Jack as a friend first and foremost. “Like he’d ever forget how he felt on the worst day of his goddamn life.” 

You swallowed down the tears that were threatening to spill as you shook your head. “I don’t know, Champ, I can’t…” Can’t imagine how that constitutes anything but fucking torture. Squeezing your eyes shut, you gave up on answering his question because you weren’t sure it had one. Instead, something else occurred to you as you returned your focus to the screens once more. “Ginger, can you pull up those dates again? The ones that were flagged for both programs?”

“Sure,” she replied, already moving to find the information you asked for. “They’re right here.” 

You quickly found the entry for the incident that Ginger had pulled up - the one that left Jack with a gunshot through his chest. Your blood ran cold as you cross referenced it with Merlin’s file and found it to be one of the double flagged events. “Shit. Look. Right before he got the tattoo. It… he…” You sighed heavily. “It makes sense that if that memory was being enhanced while he was going through the Recall system that he’d suddenly be inspired to get a tattoo honoring his wife directly after. And if there’s a chance that those two programs being run simultaneously causes lapses in short term memory or even reordering of current memories…” You trailed off as Ginger nodded.

“Then he wouldn’t have thought to report the tattoo because he thought it was always there. You’re right, Maraschino. I think…” She nodded again, glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose and requiring a small shove back into place. “I think that’s the only explanation, actually.” 

“But why?” Champ asked again, crossing his arms and bringing his left hand up to smooth out his mustache. “Why sharpen that memory?” He clicked his tongue. “And if I wasn’t the one authorizin’ it, and neither of you were the ones implementing it, who the hell was?” 

Static started buzzing through the portion of your brain where logic normally resided, but luckily Ginger had an answer to the first half of Champ’s questioning. “Well, since Whiskey’s trigger image is a photo of her..? Maybe ensuring that that memory in particular stays… intact, was somehow crucial to ensuring that the Recall program would work every time?” 

It was something, though you weren’t sure it answered the second part of Champ’s question - about who was actually running Project Aster. And perhaps more importantly, how. 

“Maybe,” Champ muttered. “You should get in touch with Merlin. Let him know what Maraschino just puzzled together. See if you can get him to focus on only crackin’ the files that coincide for now. Maybe there’s more clues that we’re missin’.” 

Ginger immediately did as he asked, filling her Kingsman counterpart in on what the three of you had just discussed. As she finished, so did the countdown on your watch, three long beeps coming from the device on your wrist. Whipping around towards the recovery bays, you took a breath and held it as you watched the visor lift… 

…And the man beneath it start to sit up. 

–  –  –  

A fizzy sort of disorientation greeted Jack as his eyes opened, the feeling akin to waking from a nap he hadn’t meant to take and not quite knowing how long he’d been asleep. It wasn’t unpleasant. If anything, it was nice. A few seconds with no pressure, no expectations, just the hum of consciousness taking back over. A reprieve of sorts, short-lived as it was. 

By the time his boots hit the floor it was already over, the pleasant fizz in his brain consolidating into a clunky mass of confusion.

Where the hell am I?  

He blinked, clearing the slight blur around the edges of his vision as the hum sharpened into sounds and then words. There were people - three of them - talking, and it took him a few seconds to realize that they were talking to him. 

But who… And how did I get here? Last I remember I was… 

Before he had a chance to blink again, a woman with dark eyes behind winged glasses stepped up next to an older man with sandy gray hair. Despite the somewhat regretful expression she wore, she was gorgeous, and Jack was just about to tell her so when she beat him to the punch once more, extending her hand and what she was holding, out to him. “I really hate to do this to you, Jack, but I need you to look at this.” 

Alright? 

He lifted his hand to take what she was passing him. As soon as his fingertips made contact with the glossy finish of the photo paper though, he felt something at his core telling him to pull back - like the slamming of brakes at 65 MPH or the tug of a chain attached to a heavy anchor. It was strange, a bit unsettling, but he was willing to chalk it up to the confusion still taking up most of his brain space, so he ignored the alarm and looked at what he was holding. 

A young woman - a beautiful young woman - smiled up at him from the photo, her ruby lips catching his eye right away. “Well now, who is this pretty lady?” 

The other man in the room clicked his tongue, Jack looking up at the sound. “You really don’t remember her, Whiskey?” 

Whiskey? What? He gave a small shake of his head. Do I know her? He felt that slam again, that thing inside trying to pull him back, but he looked back down at the picture. She does look… familiar. “Remember… what about her, exactly?” 

The third person in the room was standing just out of Jack’s line of sight and slightly behind the man, but Jack heard a gasp come from their direction at his question. 

The woman who handed him the photo let out a deep sigh then. “I’m so sorry, Jack.” She frowned. “She’s dead.” 

She’s dead. 

Those two words fell through him with the crushing weight of a lead anvil. He dropped his eyes back to the photo, and as he did he felt his memory spin like the cylinder of a pistol, flashes of moments flying by with each empty cylinder. 

Click. A quarter dropped into the coin slot of a jukebox. The press of a button to select a song. His hand extended out to her and her smile as she let him lead her in a dance. 

She’s…

Another click. Her simple white dress, his borrowed suit. The last rays of sunlight and the exchange of rings. Elation as the words “I do,” were spoken, and a kiss that mirrored their intent. 

My wife, she’s… 

The final click that found the loaded chamber. One hand on her hip, the other on the slight bump of her belly. “Just running to the store for milk, Honey, I’ll be right back.” “Alright, Sweetheart, be safe.” 

He blinked at the photo again, the motion of his eyelids like the pull of a trigger in his brain. 

She’s gone. 

Suddenly it all fell painfully into place. Who he was, what he lost, his training with Statesman, the mission he’d been on when - he lifted his fingertips to the side of his head, finding a gauzy bandage applied near his temple - when he’d been shot. Bringing the photo up to his lips, he pressed a kiss to the glossy image of his wife, his highschool sweetheart, the love of his life, the mother of his child, the woman who was ripped from his life when she got tangled in the web of a drug related shooting.  

When Jack lifted his eyes to the woman who had handed him the photo, he could feel that they had darkened. “Ginger.” He handed his trigger image back to her so she could slip it into the file for the next time it was needed, and then shifted his focus to the man standing beside her. “Champ.” 

The older man sighed, relief rolling off of him in waves as he did. “Welcome back, Agent Whiskey. Had us worryin’ there for a spell.” He clapped a weathered palm to Jack’s shoulder.

The contact was meant to be comforting, compassionate. But with it came another sharp pulse of memory - anger and rage, deep seeded and violent. The image of a vial in his hand, and then the business end of a pistol meeting his gaze, the man behind it wearing an eyepatch. A loud bang and then nothing. 

I was close. To completing the objective. I was close, and then - 

He hissed under his breath, subtly shrugging Champ’s hand off of him. “Goddamn butterfly guy shot me.” 

“What?” Ginger Ale’s bewildered tone matched the questioning expression on her face. She gave a small, jerky shake of her head. “Why would he-” 

Jack felt another pulse of anger flash through him, and it forced him to cut the woman off. “Well I’m guessin’ it’s because you didn’t fix’im right.” The woman recoiled slightly, Jack narrowing his eyes. 

This is… strange. 

The emotions he was experiencing didn’t feel like his own. He respected Ginger. And Champ. He couldn’t recall a time when he’d ever spoken to either of them with the same amount of vitriol that he tasted on his tongue with every word he let loose now. 

Somethin’ ain’t right. 

He knew it at his core. He’d done this same dance several times before, but never had he woken up so agitated, so hell bent on shoving blame onto anyone but himself. But he also knew that the mission he was on had to be seen through, and he knew that he needed to be there to ensure that it was. Swallowing the thickness in his throat, he took a second to calm himself  down, eyes moving from Ginger’s frown to the screen displaying the GPS location of the plane carrying Eggsy, Harry and Merlin to Poppy’s hideaway. 

But in transition, they landed somewhere else first. 

They landed on the pair of eyes belonging to the third person in the room, and when they did he felt something else. Something warm and soft, like the sound of the music coming from that jukebox. Like the gentle glow right before sunset. Like the promise of home and someone to share it with. 

He knew his wife was gone. In the depths of his soul, he knew. But in that moment, when his eyes locked with that third pair - with yours - he felt a connection that he couldn’t explain. 

“Sweetheart?” 

– – – 

His voice cracked on the word, and you watched the daggers he’d been shooting from his eyes clatter to the ground as he shifted his focus to you. 

What? You sucked in a breath and held it as your heart slammed against your sternum. He’s never called me that. He only… That particular term of endearment belonged to someone else. Someone who you knew you could never replace, nor would you ever try to. You wet your lips with the tip of your tongue before speaking. “It’s me… It’s Maraschino, Agent.” 

At the mention of your codename he blinked, dropping his eyes from your face, down to where your necklace lay atop your shirt. The tips of your fingers came involuntarily up to touch one of the pearls strung along the chain. When his gaze lifted it had changed again. Still softer than what he’d treated Ginger and Champ to. But not as wistful as it was when he first looked your way. Oh, Jack.  A deep ridge cut through the center of his forehead as his eyebrows came together, and then he took a step towards you, clearing his throat before speaking again, a hint of apology in his tone as he said your name. “Darlin’ I-“ 

You shook your head, cutting him off before he could finish. “It’s alright, Agent.” You could have sworn you saw him wince as you dropped your hand from your necklace back to your side. What’s that about? Giving him what you hoped was a small but encouraging smile, you tried not to let your mind leap to worst case scenarios, ones in which the reset hadn’t fully taken, leaving him caught in confusion. No, that was just a blip. Happens sometimes. He just needs a few more minutes to settle. “Just glad to have you back.”  

Because losing you would be awful, Jack Daniels. I… I can’t lose you. 

“Back.” Jack repeated the word, eyes finally finding clarity and moving to their intended target -  the screen displaying the map. Moving towards it, he pointed at the Kingsman Agents’ destination. “I need to get back to the mission. If Galahad Senior’s brain is still scrambled, Eggsy could be in danger and the whole damn mission could be at risk.” 

Though it didn’t necessarily surprise you that he was so eager to get back in the field, the idea of him barreling back into the fray without any answers about Project Aster was not one that you were comfortable with. At all. Wait. Your heart sped up as you turned in Ginger’s direction. We can’t let him go back without even telling him what Merlin found in his file, right? You caught her eye and pleaded silently with her. He needs to know. He could still be at risk if something’s not right, and-

“Hold your horses just one minute there, Agent.” Both you and Ginger turned at the sound of Champ’s voice, his hesitancy to agree with Jack giving you hope. “There’s somethin’ you need to know first before we decide if we can send you back out. Might be better to get Mezcal on it, he’s still in Tokyo so -” 

That was not what Jack was expecting to hear, which was made extremely clear by the incredulous look he shot Champ’s way. “No, what you need to know is that that one-eyed wonder Harry is liable to snap again and shoot this whole operation to shit. Briefing Mezcal and arrangin’ travel will take too long.” He took a step closer to the Agency’s leader. “I’m already familiar with the mission. I can get myself there in the Pony.” He gave a small shake of his head. “You know I’m right, Champ.” 

You glanced sidelong at Ginger, the woman doing the same, both of you seemingly holding your breath to see what Champ’s response would be. 

He clicked his tongue and muttered a swear under his breath and you felt your heart sink. He’s gonna do it. He’s gonna send him back out even though - “Well, you’re not wrong, Jack. But!” He held up a finger and cocked his head to the side. “Galahad the Elder might not be the only one scrambled up here. Tell me, Agent, you ever heard of Project Aster?” 

–

Project Aster? 

Jack instantly recoiled at Champ’s question, one hand coming up to his chest where beneath the jumpsuit he still wore, a bundle of three flowers sharing a name with the operation was tattooed on his skin. 

They were his wife’s favorite flower, symbolic of love and devotion. He gave her a bouquet of them on their first date and on the day he asked her to marry him. She had them in her hair at the wedding. She grew them in the garden of their home. Asters had been a part of Jack’s life far longer than Statesman had. And as far as he knew, he’d never been involved with a project of that name. 

“What the fuck is Project Aster?” 

Over the next few minutes, Ginger Ale showed him hidden entries in his file that corresponded  to the mystery project. She explained that whatever it was, it seemed to be linked to sharpening or enhancing specific memories - and that it was being used in conjunction with the Recall Program. Something like a dark shadow lurked in the back of his mind, telling him that whatever concerns Ginger had brought up were valid. But even as she laid it all out to him, including how much was still unknown about why and how Aster was being implemented without Champ’s authorization, and what it could possibly mean for his own health and safety if there were any dangerous side effects, Jack had simply no prior knowledge of taking part in it. 

“I don’t know what to tell you about this, Ginger,” he said with a shrug of both shoulders. He glanced your way, the empathy in your eyes damn near breaking his heart. Oh, Darlin’, don’t be sad for me. He swallowed his knotted emotions and returned his focus to Ginger and Champ. “But I do know that if I don’t get back on this mission, millions more people will die because they got caught in the crosshairs of some psycho, just like my Sweetheart did.” He looked directly at Champ then, pleading to the one person in the room he’d known the longest. “And that I cannot abide while there’s still something to be done about it.” 

Champ held his gaze for a handful of seconds before clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Fine.” He raised one shaggy eyebrow. “But you might not like the one condition I’m allowing it under.” 

– – – 

Champ had been right - Jack did not like the condition. 

“Abso-fucking-lutely not, Champagne!” He roared, eyes darkening and nostrils flared wide. He looked right at you then, and you saw something flicker just beneath the surface before he whipped his attention back to Champ. “For one, I do not need a fuckin’ chaperone. And even more importantly, Maraschino should not have to risk her life in the field when she’s not trained and-” 

“And it’s the only way you’re going, Whiskey.” You’d never heard the tone that entered Champ’s voice as he shut down Jack’s protest before then, and it was enough to make you suck in a breath and straighten your spine. Oh, shit. “Now you just told me that we don’t have much time to lose here. Do you really want to lose more of it arguin’ with me on this? Because you will not win.” 

The condition, though it was sprung on you and Ginger in the same moment that it was presented to Jack, was that he would be allowed to resume his part in the mission to stop the Golden Circle - so long as you accompanied him to observe him for any side-effects or signs that Project Aster was interfering with his cognitive function. Which, as someone who never considered taking a job in the field, came as a shock to you. 

But not as big a shock as it was to him. It was clear that Jack wanted you nowhere near the mission, and you couldn’t really blame him. I’d be a liability. He’d have to watch both of your backs and that would mean taking attention away from what he was there to do. But… You hated to admit that it was the only way. He needs someone there with him to make sure he’s still on target and it… It has to be me. 

Ginger needed to stay to monitor Tequila’s recovery and to continue to correspond with Merlin. Champ had the entirety of Statesman to run, several other ongoing missions to oversee. But you were the one who not only knew the most about the Recall Program among the rest of the lab assistants thanks to your research, but you also knew the most about Jack. You knew him as an Agent and as a man, and you would know best if he were acting off in any way. 

“It’s okay, Jack.” You knew that you should have used his codename. Protocol and all of that. But you also knew that you could reach him more deeply if you shirked protocol and showed him that you were in if it could give him a better chance at safely finishing this. 

You watched the fight drain from him as you agreed to Champ’s terms. His eyes went soft and his full lips formed a slight pout as he looked at you, taking a breath that filled his lungs before slowly letting it out. He took two steps closer to you, gaze flicking down to your chain once more before coming back up to meet yours. “You sure about this, Darlin’?” 

Wetting your lips with the tip of your tongue, you nodded. “I’m sure.” Trying for a moment of lightness, you gave him a tiny smile. “Besides, you always said you wanted to take me for a spin in the Silver Pony.” 

It didn’t make him laugh or even crack a grin. Instead, to your dismay, the look on his face only grew more grim. But he nodded once and turned to Champ. “Alright.” 

It was the last word he spoke until you were in the air, Ginger showing you how to strap into your seat and going over the controls in your headset before takeoff. Jack continued to keep his lips sealed for the first half of the flight. When he finally broke the silence, it was with your name, static crackling in your headset before his voice was in your ear. You froze at the emotion you heard there, recognizing it instantly despite the fact that it was the first time he’d displayed it to you. Fear. He’s… You swallowed down a thick knot. He’s scared. “Darlin’? You read me?” 

Shit. Clearing your throat, you pressed the button that allowed you to respond. “I read you, Jack.” You waited a beat, heart slamming at your ribcage as you stared at the back of his seat in front of you. “Everything alright?” Well that’s a dumb question that I already know the answer to. 

He let out a small humorless laugh that sounded far too flat to have come from the man you knew. “Oh, just peachy.” You winced, closing your eyes and focusing on his voice. “Listen, I know Champ and Ginger want you to stick with me on this one. But I…” He swore under his breath. “I need you to stay with the Pony when we land. Can you promise me that?” 

What? Your eyes flew open, brow creased with confusion. “That’s not…” You shook your head even though you knew he couldn’t see you. “Jack, that would be a violation of a direct order. Think about what you’re asking me to do. I can’t-” 

“No, I can’t,” he spoke over you, that uncharacteristic fear still present in his tone and sending a chill through you. “Can’t lose you, too, Darlin’. Can’t have you become another picture in my file of someone I lo-” 

Your mouth dropped open and you inhaled sharply as he cut himself off mid-word. Someone he… The rushing sound that filled your ears then had nothing to do with the fact that you were traveling at Mach speed, and everything to do with what you were damn near certain he had just stopped himself from saying. Was he going to say someone he loves? You blinked, fingers digging into your thigh as you waited for him to continue. 

“Someone I lost.” 

You let go of your held breath in a single burst as you thought about the way he looked at you back in the lab, when he first woke up and called you Sweetheart - like he’d been reunited with someone he’d been missing, someone he’d been looking for but who he never hoped to find. Like he thought I was… A deep ache twisted through your chest and you had to work to fight off a sob. Like he thought I was his wife. 

Whatever shit Aster had dragged up in his memory, whatever edge that time had worn down that the experimental project had sharpened was clearly playing painful games with his heart. And yours was getting cut up in the process. “You won’t lose me, Jack.” And I won’t lose you. 

“Just promise me,” he said again, adding your name. “Promise me, please. I’ll leave my wrist comm open and connected the whole time. Anything squirrely starts happenin’, you come runnin’. But… long as everything’s alright, can you please tell me you’ll stay back?” 

It went against your better judgment. It went against your loyalty to Statesman and the agreement that you made with Champ and Ginger. But the crack in his voice, that look in his eye back in the lab… you knew that if he was too worried about your safety it would put his own at risk. So you made the promise he asked you to. You stayed with the plane when it landed, Jack pressing a too-quick kiss to your lips before he went dashing off into certain danger. 

“I’ll come back to you, Darlin’,” he’d said. “I swear it.” 

But you heard and felt what he was really saying with that kiss, with those words. I love you, too, Jack. “You better, Cowboy.” 

And then he was gone.  

Ten minutes ticked by, going on eleven when your watch beeped and you twisted your wrist to read it, three messages from HQ coming in rapid succession. 

IMMEDIATE CONTACT REQUIRED RE: PROJECT ASTER 

NOT WHAT WE THOUGHT. PROJECT ASTER WAS NOT INTENDED TO SHARPEN MEMORIES. ITS INTENT WAS TO CREATE THEM. 

As chilling as both of those were to read, it was the final one that drove an icy spike through your heart. 

WHISKEY NEVER HAD A WIFE. 

.

.

.

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[ofstarsandvibranium]

My You-niverse: Richard Alonso Munoz

Fandom: Oscar Isaac

Pairing: Richard Alonso Munoz x F!Reader, throughout the series: Marc Spector x F!Reader, Steven Grant x F!Reader

Summary: You and America get stuck portal jumping until you reach your universe again. In the meantime, you meet various versions of your husband.

Warning: mentions of domestic abuse

A/N: sorry its been almost a month since i last updated...i can't promise that it wont happen again.

Series Masterlist

"You've been coming around here a lot lately," you state as you take your mail from Richard.

"Dana's on maternity leave, so I'm taking over the women's block as well."

Your brows shoot up, "Oh. I didn't know she already had the baby. Tell her I said 'Congrats'."

Richard gives you a nod and a soft smile, "Will do."

_____________

Steven groans and wipes his mouth after throwing up. America gives him a sympathetic look, "Yeah, that happens sometimes."

"Strange, not that I don't enjoy all this universe hopping and what not, when will we find, Y/N?"

Stephen rolls his eyes at Marc's alter, "It's not like I put a tracking on her."

"There's no spell of some sort that could help us track her?" Steven asks in desperation.

Stephen thinks and then his eyes widen. He turns to Steven, "Do you have anything of Y/N's?"

Steven rummages through his pocket and pulls out a necklace, "Here. I gave this to her on our first wedding anniversary. She makes me hold it during missions because she doesn't want to lose it."

"Perfect. Hold it up." While Steven holds up your necklace, Stephen does several hand movements, creating different glowing magical shapes. He pushes the shapes to your necklace and it proceeds to glow. The light from it then fades and the necklace is just the same as it was.

"...soooo...what was that supposed to do?" America asks with a cocked brow.

"This," Stephen points to your necklace, "will glow if it senses any trace of Y/N."

America threw up her arms, "Why didn't you think of this earlier?"

"I didn't think of it until now."

Steven groaned, "Would've saved us a lot of time, mate, if you did!"

"Doesn't matter now. All that matters is that we're closer to finding Y/N." Stephen created a portal to the next universe, "Shall we carry on?"

____________________

Twenty-five years to life. Shit. Well, you suppose that's what you get for killing someone. That someone being your sister's abusive ass ex-husband.

"I'd do it again," you murmur, pushing your food around your tray while Richard sat across from you, "No one, especially my sister, deserves to be treated the way he treated her," you spoke, the memories this universe' version of you flooded your brain, "If I didn't do it, there would've been another woman after my sister that he'd use as his personal punching bag. I couldn't have that."

"I get it. I don't condone what you did, but I get it. I've read the letters your sister sends you. I can tell she's very grateful of you."

You nod and let out a deep breath, "So you probably know everyone's dirty secrets, huh? Having to read everyone's letters and whatnot."

Richard smooths over his mustache and shrugs, "I try not to really get into all. Just have to make sure no one is trying to break out of here or trying to hurt someone."

You smirk at him and lean in closer so that he could only hear you, "Have people sent nudes?"

He gave a nervous laugh, "Oh God," he shakes his head, covering his blushing face, "I'm surprised how many people send naked photos of themselves to these inmates."

"Oooouu, Ritchie!"

"I don't look at them long. Just to see it's nothing harmful and then set it back in the envelope." he scoffs, "I've seen more naked women here than I do outside of work."

Your brows rise in surprise, "Really?"

He shrugs, "Yeah, is that surprising?"

It's your turn to shrug, "I dunno. I just-you're sweet and funny and handsome. Thought you'd have someone to give you some lovin'."

Richard sighs, "Unfortunately, there is no love for me."

You prop your elbows up, resting your chin on your hand, "I'd date you if I wasn't locked up here."

"Yeah?" Now it's Richard who looks at you with surprise.

You nod, "Yeah. Like I said, you're sweet, funny, and handsome. Very understanding and a great listener."

One of the guards then announces that lunch is over and that everyone should be heading back to their cells.

You groan and hang your head low, "Guess I'll see you around, Ritchie."

_________________

"So all of these versions of Marc's are just a bunch of tossers, aren't they?" Steven says with a snort, but then he punches himself in the face.

"Shit!" he cries out, "Unnecessary!" He begins to start arguing with Marc.

America starts slowly moving away from them but closer to Stephen, "So, Doc, are we getting closer to finding Y/N?"

"I think so," he fiddles with your necklace in his hand, "It's getting warmer, so we might not be that far behind." He looks back at Steven and calls out, "If you two are done bickering, I'm sure you'd like to get back to finding your wife?"

Steven nods, "Right," he straightens his jacket, "Let's go then." He catches up to Steven and America.

He and America trail behind Stephen and as he follows wherever your necklace is leading him. He's fully concentrated on the task at hand.

America then speaks up, "So, Steven, I know Y/N and Marc are married, so does that mean you're married to her too?"

"I suppose yes, in a way," he holds up his left hand to show his wedding ring, "But technically no. On the marriage certificate, it's Y/N and Marc's name. To be fair, I was never really a relationship person. That's all Marc with the romance and sweeping her off her feet. It took me a while, but I've come to love her as well. There's no title, really. She's mine just as much as she is Marc's and vice versa."

The teen suddenly looks upset, "I really am sorry I got her into this mess."

"It's not your fault. Marc's pissed, yeah, but it's at himself. He gets hard on himself whenever something happens to Y/N. And this is unknown territory for, well, all of us. But Marc doesn't like being so blind to all of this."

"What about you? How are you feeling about all this?"

Steven chuckles, "It's rather thrilling, innit? Visiting multiple universes and timelines and all that?"

America chuckles, "Yeah, it's pretty cool. Maybe once I really get the hang of my powers, we can do this again sans losing Y/N and trying to get her back."

Steven winces and rubs his belly, "Maybe not for a while," remembering how many times he's thrown up already from the universe jumping.

America laughs, "Fair enough."

________________

Richard should be keeping watch of everyone else in the courtyard, but he can't. His attention is captured by you.

You're laying in the grass, soaking up as much sun as possible. He can tell you're at peace in this moment. He doesn't want to disturb you, but he can't help the pull that draws him to you.

He crosses the basketball court, to the area of grass that's starting to yellow as the summer heat is rolling in.

When he approaches you, your eyes are focused up at the sky.

Your eyes go to him and you smile, "Care to join me?" you pat the grass beside you.

He shakes his head, "I'm alright. I just wanted to check up on you."

You hum, eyes going back up at the sky, "When I look up, I'm taken away from this place. I'm not in prison, I'm somewhere else. Somewhere I'm free." You look back to him, "And you're there with me."

"Am I?" Richard gives a chuckle.

You nod, "Of course. You're sharing all of the poems that you've written and read to me." You sit up and turn to him, "Have you written anything new?"

"I'm...working on something."

"Can I get a sneak peek?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?!"

"Because I only want to show you when it's finished."

You hold up your hands in surrender, "Fine, fine. I won't budge."

You put your hands behind your head and lean back to lay back down. Once your head hits the grass, you're suddenly somewhere else.

You're on a cold floor. Standing above you is another version of your husband. His hair is slightly longer, more salt and pepper. He's also donning a beard similar to Nathan's.

"I win again, stardust." this version of Marc holds a baton towards you.

You groan, sitting up, "Ow."

He offers a hand to you and pulls you to your feet, "What's hurt?"

"My ego," you answer with a pout.

He gives a low chuckle and kisses your head, "You're fine."

"My Duke Leto," a man enters the room, "your meeting ," he reminds Leto, as you've learned his name.

"Right. I lost track of time." He hands you the baton, "Maybe you should join Paul in his lessons." he playfully nudges you.

"Ha ha."

Leto gives you a chaste kiss on the lips and heads for the door, "I'll see you at dinner, stardust."

You wave at Leto and then take a look around the room you're in. It's all stone of some sort. You walk towards the only window in the room and peer through it, seeing waves of water crash against a cliff.

The sky didn't look right. Were you on some other kind of planet?

[chaoticmannamedoliver]

Okay so, below is a health ish update and a vent about my former GP- cause they did smth that feld dehumanizing. This is mostly just so other people who might have similar health issues to me, can point me into right directions....im iffy about doctors rn-

Contents:

- stupid thing my GP did

- listing of my pains i have that neither of my 2 GP's ive been to acknowledged or bothered with. If you have something similar or know ANYTHING, i really need help, even just little things to make it easier.

- So, what my last gp did -

So i had an appointment with her recently that i took my boyfriend too since he was visiting me anyway- love him

I sat down, and the whole appointment was just a disappointment. She basically gave up on figuring out why im dizzy or why my blood pressure is so high with 18. I asked what im supposed to do with my heart, what im supposed to do about the dizzy- that i came to her for answers- but the woman who seemed so keen on finding out whats wrong with me, cursing my first gp for just prescribing me HBP Meds without further research and who daid she loved working with young adults...just apparently gave up n said is nothing n that i should just continue talking my meds. I had my shitty ass cane to the appointment with me, which she asked about - and i said it helped me with my dizzy, to which she rolled her eyes

She offered one more test, probably just to get me out and left for a bit to talk with a doctor. In the meantime i had a breakdown because i got no answers- and didn't get any further.

When she came back, she told me to get up and go straight, i asked to where exactly- then she grabbed my arm, took my cane from me and with a very uncomfortable grip, dragged me to the waiting area in front of the room for the last test and sat me down, giving the cane to my probably very taken aback partner who had followed us and mutteredthat i didn't need it and. I had another breakdown and didn't understand what happened yet- but it felt bad, dehumanizing?? GP asked me not to cry, and that what she did was just to give me courage and then just left. It felt like she never listened to anything i said- and i still don't know what to make of what happened - if anyone has suggestions- do tell? It felt....hurtful

- My issues and ows and whatnot -

So, there are a few, especially now that i have someone who actually tells me that they're not normal.

- my feet/heels start hurting after 5 ish minutes of standing

- i get dizzy if i stand for a minute or two on bad days and good days it kicks after 1-10 minutes

- heat and shower makes dizzy worse. A sitting think in the shower would make it better

- i have too high blood pressure if i don't take the meds.

- no, the dizzy doesn't come from any ear organ stuff. Tested that.

- the dizzy had gotten. Better after the meds, now its hard to tell.

- sometimes my gravity just says no.

- after maybe 30 min to an hour of walking, my feet/heels hurt. After a certain point i get dizzy. Then no amount of break will fix it. I need to lay down.

- without my cane, walking feels heavy. Please let me use my cane for fucks sake im going to hit the next doctor who says i don't need it i swear to GOD.

- growth pain. After a day of walking. Or cleaning. My knees and shins hurt. Especially once im laying again. They hurt so much that i want to claw at them. Take them out. Agony. Luckily ive started to recognize the kinda pain early and take a paracetamol- but without it? Not matter what position, im in pain

I don't think im supposed to have growth pain anymore with almost 19, right?

- when i get dizzy, the ground feels like its zooming away from me

- i was born at the end of the 6th month? If that helps any-

- inherited migraines from my dad- also just side info